A Better Man
by Archangela
Summary: Christmas chap up!*Draco's in desperate need of a Paladin, a trained Auror to protect him from the evil of the Death Eaters. What does he do when the Paladin assigned to him happens to be the last person in the world he'd ever want by his side? D/Hr. R&r!
1. Guardian Angels

AN: This is the result of too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Seriously screwed up plot.

Disclaimer: You not sue me, I not maim you.

Dedicated to: *insert sentimentalities here*

**__**

A Better Man

Chapter One: A Better Man

__

Send someone to love me

I need to rest in arms

Keep me safe from harm

In pouring rain

- Better Man, Robbie Williams

Draco flinched as Alastor Moody's magical eye swept over him. "Is this all true?" he growled. Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Moody's normal eye scanned the roll of parchment, but the magical eye was still fixed on Draco, who rubbed the bruise on his forehead, and tried not to fidget.

"So, let me get this straight. You, Draco Thomason Magnum Malfoy, are requesting a Paladin."

"Yes, sir."

"Reasons would be?"

"Personal protection from outside Dark forces, sir…" Draco looked down at his hands, while Moody stared at him calculatingly. "You went against your father's will, did you, boy?" he asked, and Draco flinched once more.

"Yes."

"He asked you to become a Death Eater, didn't he, boy?"

"He _ordered _me to become a Death Eater… sir."

"And you said?"

"No…" 

The last word was barely a whisper, but that was all Moody needed to hear.

"And so they're after you now, boy?"

"Yes. All of them."

"Them?"

"The other Death Eaters, sir."

"Other?"

Wordlessly, Draco pushed back the sleeve on his left arm, revealing a great number of bruises, and one large, extremely ugly black mark. The Dark Mark.

"He had enough time to burn this into me, before I escaped…" Draco's voice was noticeably shaky. Moody stared at it. "That is a connection to the Dark Lord, boy…" he stared fiercely up at Draco. "You could be tracked down with that." 

"I had it Detached, sir… it's only the black mark that won't come off…" Draco suddenly sounded very tired. "Ah, but that must have cost you. Detaching a Mark is extremely painful, both physically and mentally… and do you realize that you will be experiencing bouts of…" Moody frowned. "I'm no mediwizard, boy, but I know that Detached Dark Marks send the wearer into these _periods _of intense pain."

Draco sighed. "I know that too, sir."

Moody suddenly straightened up, as if carrying new respect for this young man, who dared to go against the Dark Lord, and suffered through a highly dangerous and painful magical procedure to insure their safety. "Well, I'll be assigning you a Paladin… the two of you will be Relocated to an Unplottable piece of island. She will have open communication with us, the rest of her Aurors, and the Ministry twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I assure you that she is highly trained, and is one of our most skilled Aurors in three hundred years." Moody pulled out a long list of names.

"Er… sir? She?" Draco looked mildly affected by the fact that a female would be taking care of him for the rest of his life. Moody nodded. "The woman we have in mind has been with us since she graduated from Hogwarts, and she has shown us extreme skill since then. She's very trustworthy… and in accordance to your…" Moody glanced at Draco, and almost smiled. "_past _concerning this woman, I don't think any monkey business will be at hand."

The Auror suddenly became business-like once more, shuffling the papers and standing up from his desk. Draco looked down at his shoes, scuffed from his wild scramble through the Forbidden Forest to get outside Hogwarts grounds, where he Apparated to the Ministry office. _Who could "she" be? What past… I might have known her in Hogwarts… ugh, what if it's Millicent Bulstrode? _

Draco grimaced slightly, and then murmured a silent "ouch", reaching up to his face to touch his swollen lip, his bruised eye, the cuts on his cheek. Moody glanced at him. "I'll call your Paladin in now. She could begin her patrol by showing off her extensive medical expertise."

Moody raised his wand, and Draco instantly ducked, but instead, a white _something _shot out of it and darted out of his office door. A few minutes passed by…

All of a sudden,a young woman dashed in the office, out-of-breath and clutching at a small suitcase. "You called, Moody, sir?"

Moody nodded at her. "Good afternoon. I want you to meet Draco Malfoy. You will be his Paladin for as long as necessary, and I trust that you will do your best for his protection. I want you to escort him now to the hospital wing, where you will treat his injuries, and then you will be Relocated to a cottage in hiding." Moody motioned for Draco to stand up. Draco, who had his back to the door all that while, stood up and turned to face the woman.

"Mister Malfoy, she will be your Paladin. This is Miss Hermione Granger."


	2. Restored Peace

AN: I like this… it's giving me a break off _Fata Viam Invenient… _and well, I've been inspired lately. I think.

Disclaimer: I highly doubt that J.K. Rowling will be writing D/Hr. But, oh sweet mother of god, I wish. Oh, and the song I've been using belongs to the excellent Robbie Williams. 

Dedicated to: The wonderful personages who reviewed Chapter One. The ones who review this chapter will be rewarded on Chapter Three. *shameless review promotion*

Chapter Two: Restored Peace

__

As my soul heals the shame

I will grow through this pain

Lord, I'm doing all I can

To be a better man

- Better Man, Robbie Williams

"Nice to see you, Granger. But, by all means, haven't you researched a charm that would tame down that big bushy head of yours yet?" Draco smirked as Hermione stalked through the corridors with him by her side. Hermione chose not to reply, her lips pressed together in… who knows? Fury? Exasperation? Or… heaven forbid… laughter?!

Draco glanced at her. "Are you really going to be this boring? Maybe I can ask for a replacement…" The hurtful words spilled out before he could stop himself. Suddenly, Hermione stopped dead, whirling around and jabbing a finger into his chest.

"The moment I heal your wounds, a binding magical contract will be ensued. I'll be your official Paladin for…" she shrugged dismissively. "as long as necessary. The moment I close up that nasty cut on your cheek, or mend that horrible lump on your forehead, we'll be stuck with each other, whether you like it, or not."

She stopped her speech, eyes bright. Hermione swung open the door of the medical wing and motioned for Draco to sit on one of the empty cots. He did, warily watching her. She heaved a deep breath and took out her wand.

"Okay, Draco. Last chance to ask for a replacement." She pointed the wand at the cut on his cheek. "Well?" She glanced at him through expressionless brown eyes. He was surveying her with bright silver-grey eyes filled with faint amusement. 

"You called me Draco."

Hermione stared at him. "And?" Draco shrugged, his eyes still bright. "Well, I haven't given you any reason to be so angelic as to call me by my first name." Hermione sighed. "Shut up, _Malfoy… _and tell me now if you want a replacement." Draco appeared to consider that for a moment. 

"No."

"Why not?"

"I like the way you call me Draco. There's a… _twinge _to it."

Hermione almost laughed. "Well, then. _Ameliorate."_

The cut on Draco's cheek glowed a bright blue, before disappearing completely, healing over into smooth skin the color of ivory. Hermione moved closer, and whispering various charms, began to soothe Draco's body of the pain that had besieged him for the past three hours. With that one word, the synonym for "restore", she had bound the two of them in a seal that could only be broken by death. The duty to protect him was on her shoulders, and the duty of respect her was on his. _This is not going to be fun… _she thought, poking at his bruises harder than intended.

As for Draco himself, he sat on the cot, listening to the slight humming of various magical procedures around him, the hushed whispers of the mediwizards and mediwitches on duty in the ward, and on top of it all, Hermione's spells, which were so effective that they left him feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world.

Hermione finished off with a Reviving Charm, and straightened up, only to see Draco leaning back, a faint smile on his face, and his eyes closed. She sighed. "Did he have to fall asleep… of all times?" she whispered harshly. To her surprise, Draco opened his eyes and looked straight at her. "I 'm not asleep." Hermione stared back. "You aren't a lot of things. Like _amiable, _for one." She grabbed her bag and motioned for him to follow her.

"I may not be a lot of things… I admit that." replied Draco fifteen minutes later, as they made their way to the Relocating Platform on the other end of the building. "Like what? Sweet, charming, a hit with the ladies?" Hermione insinuated. Draco frowned mockingly. "No… I'm not ugly, for one. I'm not stupid, and I'm not foolish. I'm not a heartbreaker, either… no matter what's scrawled up on the walls of the Hogwarts Girls' Room." He winked playfully at Hermione, and she felt a sudden urge to hit him across the face with her traveling bag.

"Oh, and I'm not small. I heard that an extremely angry ex-girlfriend of mine went off on a gossip trip about my… ahem, _Lilliputian manhood. _I'm actually quite well-endowed." Draco smiled, looking extremely pleased with himself. Hermione, however, grimaced at him. "I didn't need to know that, Draco." Draco shrugged once more. "Ah, thought you might need a little change from your little Potter." He glanced sideways at her and smirked. "And I do mean _little." _

Hermione sighed, then replied casually. "How do you know he's little? Been spying in the showers lately?" Draco threw his head back and laughed. "Bravo! Sorry to disappoint your perverted little mind, but I haven't been spying in showers… well, _men's _showers, to be exact." He suddenly turned serious. "Did you know Pansy Parkinson used to wear dragonhide thongs?" 

Hermione paled. "I _really _didn't need to know that." Draco laughed. "Neither did I."

~*~

"So, I'm going to be living here for the rest of my whole damned life, is that right?" he muttered, dumping his belongings on the floor. _Damned is right… _Hermione thought, but instead, out loud, she suggested that he go off and check out the bedrooms, while she began putting up wards.

Draco watched Hermione walk out of the small cottage incredulously. "Okay then. I'll get the house-elves to bring my luggage up to the biggest bedroom available…" He whistled for a house-elf. 

None.

He whistled again, tapping his foot impatiently.

Still none.

Then Hermione's face appeared at the screen door. Draco feigned surprise, jumping backwards melodramatically. "Oh! Sweet mother in heaven! I didn't know the house-elves here were _that _ugly!" Hermione looked sour. "Stuff it, Draco. There are no house-elves here, so I suggest you get to work and bring all your stuff in. And no picking the best bedroom… remember, you honor the lady first." She walked away. 

Draco frowned. "No house-elves?!" He picked up his bag, bending under the weight. "And who ever said that you were a lady, Hermione?" he muttered, pushing his way through the dusty furniture scattered over the equally dusty floor.

Suddenly, Hermione's voice floated in from the front lawn. "Ah, calling me Hermione now, eh?"


	3. Of Swimming Pools and Birthdays

AN: School begins tomorrow, and I haven't even packed my school bag yet. Oh well. I shall ignore my mother's protests and sit down in front of this bright blue computer monitor and begin the third chapter of _A Better Man. _And I'm going to hope on all my brand-new notebooks and pens that you guys like it.

Disclaimer: You still don't sue, I still don't maim.

Dedicated to: Cheddar, who's birthday it is. 

Chapter Three: Of Swimming Pools and Birthdays

__

"How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Get on my nerves even when you aren't really doing anything!"

A shrug. "Style."

- Conversations

"No! What are you talking about? We're supposed to be _in hiding! _And there you go, talking about house-elves and swimming pools!" Hermione stood up from the small kitchen table, knocking over her glass of water. Draco, who was sitting across from her, watched the puddle spread with amused eyes. 

Hermione sucked in her breath, eyes blazing, hair coming down from her bun in messy curls. She sighed heavily and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Oh, will you look at that?!" she threw down her fork. "It's what... ten in the morning and we're already quarreling!" She glared at Draco, who was leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Are you going to come outside with me and help me reinforce the wards, or are you going to sit there and wait until you get obscenely fat?" she hissed. Draco sat up, looking mildly shocked, pinching at his sides. "Oh heavens. Getting fat is the last thing I'd ever want to happen to me." he replied, mocking Hermione's high-pitched tone. "I guess I'll go out and make myself useful... I could also check out that sad little patch of grass we call a lawn, and see if a swimming pool really _will _fit in it."

Winking at Hermione, he fled the table. Hermione stared after him, and then followed him outside, muttering to herself.

_"A swimming pool... in the middle of nowhere... let's see him get away with that..."_

It was not a very promising start to another day at the Hideaway Hellhole, which is what Draco had named the musty one-floor cottage they had been Relocated to.

~*~

Night fell, and the cold stars outside were treated to a sight of Hermione slamming her way into the Hellhole, with Draco following a long way behind, looking rather affected. He watched her slam the door to her bedroom closed, wincing only slightly at the loud bang. 

~*~

Hermione leaned against the door, frowning. "I can't believe this. It's my birthday, and I'm stuck in a hellhole with the one man who would never even give me the time of day!" she whispered. 

Outside, she could hear the bath running. Draco was obviously taking his midnight bath. Just the fact that Draco didn't know it was her birthday was enough to make Hermione clench her fists in anger.

__

How can one man be so inherently annoying?! And how can I be so annoyed at him without him even doing anything yet? she thought, glaring around the shabby little room. _Ten years after graduation, and he can still be so immature... he hasn't changed at all... well, he's not that mean, I guess. _she admitted to herself as she moved around, setting things to rights.

She came to her desk, and the worried expression on her face melted away. "Letters!" she shrieked happily, staring at the pile on her desk. But the Auror side of her took over, and she sighed, training her wand warily at the envelopes. She whispered several testing charms before the envelopes finally shimmered pink, a sure sign that there were no hexes or curses that could harm her.

She finally grabbed up the stack and began shuffling through them, noting the special sticker on the corner of the envelopes, which meant they had been sent to her using a Locator charm, which got past the Unplottable faction of their location, and which was also incredibly difficult to accomplish. 

_They could have gotten Professor Dumbledore to do that for them… _Hermione thought happily, glancing with surprise at the letter marked "To Ms. Hermione Granger, From Professor Albus Dumbledore"

"Let's see... Ron, Mrs. Weasley... oh! Chocolate fudge! Mum, Dad, Professor Dumbledore, oh, heavens! Professor McGonagall..." Hermione frowned. _What about Harry?_

~*~

Draco stepped out of the small bathroom, shivering slightly at the cold air. "I absolutely despise showers." he whispered, teeth chattering. "I m-must convince Hermione to let me conjure up that sw-swimming p-pool... what the bloody hell?"

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, clutching the towel around his waist, staring down at the bright blue envelope lying at his still damp toes. "Aha. What is this?" he bent down and curiously picked it up, glancing at the _To: Hermione Granger _scrawled on the side...

~*~

_And… well, Happy Birthday, bookworm!_

Hermione sniffled, and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "Ron..." she grinned affectionately. "He can be so sweet when he wants to..." she broke off, rudely interrupted by a banging on her door.

"What do you want, Draco?" she called through the door, frowning once more, the letters clutched to her chest. Draco didn't answer, but continued to pound on the door. Hermione huffed angrily and pointed her wand at the door.

_"Alohomora!"_

The door swung open, revealing a very wet, half-naked, and very surprised Draco. 

Hermione let out a small "eep!" at the sight of Draco blinking confusedly at her. Well, a small "eep!" at the sight of Draco in nothing but a thin bathtowel wrapped around his slim hips.

Draco, however, got over the shock in an admirable period of time. He reverted back to his patented half-smirk-half-smile, and lazily raised a silver eyebrow at Hermione's pale face.

"Aha! So, your hidden desire to see the wonderful Draco in the buff has finally been discovered! You tricky little nymph..."

He winked infuriatingly, and holding on the towel, quickly tossed the letter at Hermione before she came out of her shocked stupor and hexed him to Hades.

"I believe your boyfriend Potter sent this. Silly nancy boy, can't even perform a Locator charm properly."

He turned to leave, but then, turned back around.

"Oh, and was it your birthday? Sorry, couldn't resist taking a little peek." he waved a hand airily at the opened envelope. "Happy birthday, then... _'mione!"_

With another wink, he set off down the corridor, disappearing into his room, leaving Hermione stock-still and paper-white in the middle of her room.

~*~

"Good morning, _'mione! _How does it feel to be twenty-eight?" Draco was lounging on the dusty sofa, amusing himself by making the equally dusty fake flower arrangements zoom around the room.

"Don't talk to me, you insufferable git." Hermione hissed through gritted teeth. Draco looked hurt. "And what ever did I do to deserve such _prickly _behavior?" he affected, sending a rose flying Hermione's way.

She ducked, and the mildewed posy went flying over her head. "Will you _please!" _she burst out, glaring at Draco for all it was worth.

"You've done nothing but get on my nerves since the first day of this unbearable encounter! I have absolutely no idea what motivated me to sign up for this 'Paladin' business, but whatever it was, it was definitely not worth facing such a vexing, irking, bloody arsehole such as _you!" _

Hermione flung down her wand at that last word, and there was a dull *snap*. She stopped, and then stared down at the broken remains of what had been her most powerful weapon all throughout her magical life.

"Oh. _Ohh..." _she breathed, kneeling down and gathering up the snapped wood and the sad remainder of a unicorn tailhair into her trembling hands. She looked up at Draco, who had sat up, and was watching without emotion. He looked back at her, and opened his mouth. 

"I'm sorry... 

but could you repeat that glorious rant of yours? I lost you back there on _'get on my nerves.'" _

Hermione stared at him through eyes filling with tears, and with a choked sob, she rushed into the other room, the dying magic of the wand emitting soft puffs of glittering blue smoke on the floor behind her. 

And the flower arrangements clattered to the ground.

***

__

Thanks to all who reviewed so far, mainly:

Moon Revenge, emma, slinky, FairieDust, f0xyness39, KrayZM, sapphire613, couch-potato, and EmiV.

Special mentionings:

__

Fanfic Fanatic: Ah, I love long reviews! Thanks for the constructive remarks... and as for Draco's name? "Magnum" means "great"... so "great dragon with bad faith." Haha.

Katana47: Faith! You've reviewed almost every one of my fics! I owe you a gift... a ficlet, maybe? Email me!

And last, but definitely not least to:

The Hate of Abel: Aha. *hug* Love you!


	4. Of Daily Schedules and Hot Chocolate

AN: AhahaHA! I like this! "I wrote it over the weekend, a gift from the gods, as easy and as sweet as anything. I was a writer transformed. I laughed and spat at the feet of writer's block. And then I sat and stared glumly at my computer screen for weeks, because the gods have a sense of humor." - Neil Gaiman

Disclaimer: Oh no. I am not J.K. Rowling! I'm just screwing around with her characters, and with Draco most especially... *mmm…* sorry, got carried away.

Dedications at the end of the chapter.

Chapter Four: Of Daily Schedules and Hot Chocolate

__

Barely even friends

Then somebody bends

Unexpectedly

- Beauty and the Beast

The next three days at the Hellhole were exactly that. Hell.

Everything seemed coated in shades of gray, or maybe it was just the September weather... but whatever it was, it succeeded in creating an atmosphere so cold that all conversation seemed impossible. 

There was no "pass the salt" anymore, for the two residents of the house rarely ate at the same time.

Hermione now used Draco's wand, without his permission, and without his protest. He left it on the table outside her room every night before he retired for bed as a sort of offering, and the wand was always replaced there by Hermione when she was finished with her Auror tasks.

Hermione would get up at five a.m., eat a cold, haphazard breakfast that she had cooked for herself, and reinforce all the wards around the house. She would have been finished with that task at seven-thirty, and she would return to the house to begin Scanning for Dark materials, but avoiding Draco's closed room at all cost. 

When all her Auror tasks have been accomplished at ten, she would return to her room, leaving the wand outside her door, and ignoring the owner of the wand, who would be eating _his _breakfast in the kitchen and reading parchments of no consequence whatsoever to her. She would stay in her room until twelve, and then she would come out for a quick lunch without Draco, a routine check and patrol around the grounds, avoiding the little corner of the garden that Draco had deemed "his", and return immediately afterwards to the confines of her bedroom. 

The rest of the day would be passed in silence, with Hermione leaving her room for a silent dinner with Draco at six. Yet another patrol, more reinforcements, all performed in silence. A quick shower at eight, and Hermione would leave the wand outside her door, with a note scrawled on parchment taped beside it, telling Draco in a brief, formal manner to "alert me for note of anything suspicious."

She would get up regularly during the night at two-hour intervals, picking up the wand that lay outside her door, and bundling herself up in thick clothes and a Warming Spell, and patrol twice through the small cottage and thrice around outdoors, Scanning suspicious objects, but always keeping away from the little spot that Draco had hidden from view with nicely draped blankets. 

_Typically Draco... _she once thought bitterly. _If he had to be doing something typically snarky, he'd definitely use Marks&Spencer bedsheets to drape it with. _

_Snooty, slimy git. Ron was so right._

~*~

Draco's activities around the Hellhole, however, were not snarky or anything of that sort... but rather lazy compared to Hermione's gritted-teeth dutiful actions. 

He'd only come out from his always-locked bedroom by around ten, and after passing by the stone-cold remains of Hermione's breakfast that she left on the table, he'd set to work around the kitchen, cooking himself a nice, traditional, and most especially delicious typical English breakfast. Without magic, of course, as Hermione was still using his wand, after snapping hers a few days ago.

This, he'd lay out on the table, with two settings, one for Hermione, and one for himself. He'd then proceed to eat half of the prepared food, leaving half for Hermione, who never ate it, preferring to stalk in after her Auror duties, ignore the prettily prepared breakfast, mutter something about having eaten already, and disappear into her room, leaving the wand outside for Draco's use. 

After eating, he would charm the plates into cleaning themselves, and using a complicated little enchantment he had dug up from his father's libraries, he would _uncook _Hermione's uneaten breakfast, returning the eggs to their uncooked state and charming them back into their eggshells, replacing the muffins in their plastic wrappings, the coffee evaporating into coffee grounds and flying back into the canister...

Draco amused himself with this until twelve in the afternoon, where he proceeded to cook everything all over again, and leaving it on the table, under Warming Spells, and he would disappear outside into the grounds, waiting for Hermione to finish eating, and basically just doing whatever he wanted to do. 

At one, he would return to the house, occasionally passing a silent Hermione, who wouldn't so much as mutter a thank-you for the lunch. Draco would re-cook the food, and eat _his _lunch, and taking a little catnap afterwards on the couch, which he had already cleared of the dust and the flower arrangements.

The rest of the day would be spent in his little corner of the garden, listening to the buzzing of the Scanning charms Hermione used outside his little haven of draped Mark&Spencers sheets. 

Dinner at six was a silent, yet delicious affair, but as usual, Draco did not receive, and did not expect any thanks for the meal. He contented himself with his little corner of the "lawn", and was usually there for the rest of the night. 

Hermione never heard him come in a for a night's sleep, and frankly, she couldn't have cared less.

Occasionally, while drifting off for another two-hour nap, she'd hear soft footsteps outside her door, and she knew it was Draco picking up his wand. It was always back on the little table when she went outside to patrol, however, and she was slightly glad that he did not give her any more reasons to get angry. (Well, besides being so utterly angelic, of course.)

~*~

After about a week of the mutual silent treatment between the two residents of the HellHole, Hermione woke up at her usual time, feeling that something was not right. A "not right" sort feeling that wasn't sinister or evil... but a "not-right" feeling that meant something was out-of-place.

And if you could rightfully call Draco Malfoy waiting downstairs for her at five a.m. in the morning with a warm, delicious-smelling breakfast and a slight smile "out-of-place", then the world was coming to an end for Hermione.

"What's this?" she asked bluntly, staring down at the hot chocolate and the warm muffins sitting on her side of the table. "It's breakfast, and you can be assured I haven't poisoned it." Draco gestured towards her seat. "So sit down."

Hermione continued to stare at the breakfast in a surly manner, and Draco sighed patiently, annoyingly. He reached over and scooped a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, and grinned at Hermione, still chewing. "See?"

Hermione sat down warily, thinking sourly that Draco Malfoy must be the only wizard in the world to ever chew, _and _talk with his mouth full, and still look incredibly aristocratic and elegant.

The breakfast was by no means poisoned, and was quite tasty, as far as Hermione was concerned. But she seemed to take no pleasure in the well-made meal as she quickly shoveled everything down and stood up to leave, the wand in her hand. But she stopped, and looked down at Draco, who was daintily chewing a tiny bit of croissant, and watching her expectantly.

"Thanks." she said shortly, and was out of the door before Draco could swallow.

"Ungrateful wench." he said cheerily, and took a sip of his hot chocolate.

~*~

The day passed quite normal, well, as normal as things got around the house. But there were little surprises sprinkled all throughout the day that made Hermione wonder if Draco was not up to something suspicious. She had once glanced up from ruffling through the Poisonberry Bushes to meet Draco's glance, as he had just ducked out of his corner of the garden. He stared back for a moment, then smiled. _Smiled. _

Hermione stared back, shook it off, and resumed her search of the bushes. 

And then lunch. As usual, thanks to Draco's remarkable cooking ability, it was a delicious affair. And as usual, Hermione got up without a sign of gratitude.

But unusually...

"Ahem."

Draco looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, so cocky and so charming that Hermione didn't know whether to smile, or hit him across the face.

She settled for something in between.

"Thank you." she said dryly.

"And you're welcome!" he replied brightly, and resumed reading his book, which was intriguingly titled _American Gods, _by some unknown author named Neil Gaiman.

Hermione turned to leave, then stopped. "Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to read at the table?" she asked. Draco looked up from his book, blinking benignly. "No, but she did teach me how to skin a cat thirteen different ways. I can teach you too, if you'd like? We can start with your Kneazle... Cookshenks, if I'm right?" he offered, with a sly grin.

Hermione paled. "No, never mind."

~*~

But the biggest surprise of the day was waiting for her in the Poisonberry Bushes that night, under the cold stars and among the diamond shadows.

She woke up at the alarm of her Muggle clock. _Time for another night patrol. _she thought sleepily, bundling herself up and casting a Warming spell with the wand outside her door.

Hermione stepped outside, holding Draco's wand out as she had been taught, and looking around, saw nothing unusual... 

Her eyes widened, and she cast a Silencing charm on herself as she warily approached the tall, hooded figure at the other end of the garden. It struck a cold thrill of fear into her heart, and she almost wished that Draco... _anybody _was here beside her. 

The figure rustled through the grass, stepping softly, elegantly, even. It seemed to be peering into the windows of the house. Hermione steeled herself. She was an Auror, fully trained, one of the best ever.

She could have hit it with a Stunner right then and there, and as that idea came into her mind, she raised her wand, and opened her mouth.

But the figure wheeled around, as if sensing her, and caught her of-guard, standing in the middle of the garden, vulnerable and exposed. Hermione froze, and yelled out the first spell that came into her mind

"_Culitivatum!"_

The figure drew back in horror as... _roses _began to sprout from the chilly September ground, the pale white heads seeming to glow in the pale moonlight. 

Hermione stepped back, horrified. _What had she done?! She had completely misfired, and with one of the stupidest spells anyone could have ever thought of!_

To her surprise, the figure began to laugh, a deep, throaty laugh that was only slightly muffled by the hood covering his/her/it's face. It bent over, and picked one of the roses off the ground, still chuckling. Hermione watched with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, the figure swore magnificently, and jerked its pale white hand away from the equally pale rose. A drop of blood trickled down it's finger, and the figure cursed once more.

Hermione was stumped. _Only Draco could curse like that, but his voice isn't that gruff... it's rather melodic and tenor... _she mentally kicked herself. Here she was, evaluating the sound of her Paladin Subject's voice, while he - and most especially _she - _was in imminent danger.

"Who are you?" she asked loudly, raising her wand and pointing it straight at the figure. 

"I'm human, I assure you of that." the figure told her in a rough voice.

"How can I be sure of that?" she asked. "I'm counting to ten, and at the end of ten, I'm Stunning you, unless you can tell me in five words who you are and what you're doing here." 

"One."

"I didn't know such an ugly house-elf could count."

"Two." _That hurt._

"Ah, put that wand down."

"Three... four." _That jab hurt. And it sounded vaguely familiar too._

"Silly wench."

"Five... six... seven."

The figure waved the rose threateningly at her. "I could kill you right now, if I wanted to."

Hermione almost laughed. It so obviously didn't have a wand. If it did, it would have had it out by then.

"Eight... where's your wand then?"

"Aha! So, you want to see my _wand!"_

"Nine... what are you talki... oh!"

"Hmm... you aren't a very good Auror, you know that? A simple joke can so easily mislead you."

"That was no joke. It was quite lewd, actually."

"See what I mean?"

Hermione frowned, and stopped counting, but kept her wand raised. This figure was so obviously harmless, but he could still physically attack her.

"Okay. Who are you?"

"My god, Hermione. By now you should have identified me. Even with that voice-altering spell…"

And he lowered his hood.

---

__

This kind of dragged, didn't it? And by now, you all probably know who that figure was. Oh well. Review!


	5. Of Repairs and Retorts

AN: Yeah, yeah. You know who the figure is... sheesh. I suck at writing suspense, I must say. I'm better at fluff, and best at angst, but anything even remotely creepy? *haughty sniff*

Disclaimer: *insert legal gabble here*

Dedications at the end of this chapter.

Chapter Five: Simple Retorts

__

Conversation

Is the key

To a healthy

Personality

- some random poem which I found sufficiently ironic enough for this chapter

Hermione stared at him. "It's you." she said flatly. He stared back, without emotion. "Yes. It's me. Now hand me that wand so I can remove this silly Voice-Altering Charm."

She tossed him the wand, and he caught it. "Careful with this." he reprimanded her. "After what happened to yours, and you go around flinging other people's wands all over the place." Hermione sniffed haughtily. "It's yours anyway. And you could probably afford having it repaired."

"_Finite Incantatem!_" and his voice returned to normal.

The young man looked at her, and put his hand in the pocket of his robe.

"Speaking of repaired."

And Draco handed Hermione her wand.

~*~

"Oh!" 

Hermione stared down at her wand, lying innocently in her palm, as whole as ever. "But how...?!" Draco shrugged. "I had it repaired." Hermione fingered the shiny, smooth wood lovingly. "But that must have cost you so much! Repairing a wand is so expensive... Buying another wand is usually..." she trailed off, lost for words.

"It wasn't cheap." Draco replied modestly, avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"Thank you... but wait a minute." Hermione pocketed her wand and trained a fierce gaze on Draco. "Where did you have this repaired?" Draco blinked. "Oh, I repaired it myself." he answered dryly, but Hermione stared him down.

"Okay, I had it done in Diagon Alley." he said, holding up his hands lazily. Hermione drew closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. "I happen to know, Draco Malfoy, that there are no wand-repairing shops along the _entire _Diagon Alley. Now you tell me where you had my wand repaired right now, or I'll slip Veritaserum in your morning coffee and find out then."

Draco smirked. "Gee, Hermione. You _have _got me in a tight corner, haven't you? I had it done in Knockturn Alley, are you happy now? Or does your inquisitive bookworm mind desire a longer, more detailed speech on how I sneaked out of bed in the middle of the night and flew to an Apparating spot on a rickety broonstick twenty miles away from here, and Apparated halfway across this bloody earth to get one wand fixed, and the ingredients for tomorrow's dinner, and then Apparated back and flew back in time for breakfast?!"

However, this description of his nightly excursion didn't seem to faze Hermione. Instead, she smirked as well, looking slightly like Draco himself. "Ah, who's ranting now?" Draco's smirk flickered into a smile, then back into a smirk. "Malfoys never rant. We simply... _declaim._" 

Hermione snorted. "Well, Grangers never stand around in the middle of a bloody cold piece of grass at two in the morning talking to someone who's in imminent danger."

Draco raised a slender finger. "Good point."

Hermione turned to leave, beckoning him to follow her, the she stopped, and then turned back to Draco, her face in a thoughtful half-frown-half-smile.

"That was dangerous, you know. Wandering off into Knockturn Alley at ungodly hours of the night... who knows what trouble you could have gotten into? That was so very dangerous, Draco, and so very stupid..."

"Well thank you." Draco retorted huffily.

"And quite sweet of you." Hermione finished, still watching him. "Dangerous, stupid and sweet. So very out-of-character for you, Draco." she seemed to be poking him in the ribs with a verbal finger. "No more behind-my-back doings, okay?"

Draco grinned, then looked solemn. "Oh, I do a lot of things behind your back that are done behind your back with good cause. For instance, whenever I-" Hermione held up a hand. "No sordid details, Draco!" she grimaced. Draco looked innocent. "Why? I was just going to tell you that I poison your coffee a little bit every morning. And I do it behind your back." The evil grin returned to his face. "Why, what did you think I was going to say? Did you think I was going to serenade you with a musical based around my bathroom activities every morning?"

Hermione sighed disgustedly and raised her wand. "One more sentence, Draco, and I'm going to cast a good Stapling Charm on your pretty mouth."

Draco looked flattered. "Well, then-"

"_Silencio!_"

Draco's lips continued to move, but nothing came out. He frowned. Hermione smirked once more. He reached for his wand, but found nothing there. Hermione watched him search for it, then calmly held up another wand, this one thicker and made of a dark wood. "Looking for this?" He looked up, then mutely dropped his hands to his sides in defeat.

"Let's go." But when Hermione turned her back on him, he suddenly grabbed her hand. 

"What? No, I am not taking that spell off you. Hm? Wait... where are you going?! Don't... you could get hurt... ohh..."

Hermione watched Draco walk around the corner of the cottage, frowning at the lazy smirk on his silenced lips. He beckoned to her before he went out of sight, and out of duty more than anything else, Hermione fought back a yawn and followed her charge around the cottage.

~*~

"Where are we going?"

A grin, and he kept walking.

"Your spot of the lawn?"

A nod.

"What's in there?"

A shrug.

"I almost regret Silencing you."

A vigorous nod.

"Or maybe not."

A silent sigh.

"You really had to use these expensive sheets?"

Another shrug.

They stopped outside the draped corner of the lawn, Hermione stomping her feet to keep warm. Her Warming Charm had long since worn off. Draco, however, seemed undaunted by the cold, though his breath made soft white clouds in the air.

He gestured for her to remove the Silencing Charm. Hermione mocked him by mutely shaking her head. He frowned, then bent down. Hermione watched as he began to trace words in the dry soil with his finger. 

_"No birthday present."_

Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he smiled a twisted little smile.

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

Draco made a _moue. _"Ah, now that that's over... first off, 'Well, then' is a phrase, not a sentence. You should have let me finish it before casting that Silencing Charm on me." He held up a hand at Hermione's unfinished protest. 

"Secondly, that was _not _a Stapling Charm." He grinned. "And thirdly, I know I have a pretty mouth."

Hermione huffed. "Okay, finish your sentence now. I'm freezing." Draco glanced at her. "Oh, so that explains your blue lips. I thought it was some kind of ugly new fashion. You girls can be so prissy sometimes." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Finish your sentence, or _I'll _be the one to poison your coffee every morning." _Not the best threat ever made, Hermione... _a little voice nagged at the back of her head. 

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well, then you won't get your birthday present." he said slowly. "Oh, yes, yes. I know... not the best threat I ever made, but it's a threat nonetheless..." he said quickly, waving his hand in the frosty air, surprising Hermione with his choice of words. "And it was a threat sufficient enough to make you remove the Silencing Charm."

Hermione rubbed her palms together, then blew on them. "Did you even get me a birthday present in the first place?" she asked snippily, then realized how incredibly snarky that comment sounded, when Draco had obviously risked his life, and spent a _lot _of Galleons on her repaired wand. 

Draco watched her amusedly. "I always get presents for the women in my life. I make it a point to be generous, whether mother, girlfriend or slave..." Hermione sputtered at the last comment, but Draco held up his hand once more, then waved his wand at the sheets draped in front of them. They immediately swooped away and folded themselves into neat stacks on the frosty ground.

And standing in one corner of the Hellhole's lawn was a neat little tent, about the size of the one they had camped in during the Quidditch World Cup.

Draco knelt down and swept aside the flap, extending a lazily elegant hand to Hermione.

"Well? What are you standing around in the cold for? Come on in."

---

__

Dedicated to:


	6. Of Little Voices and Absolution

AN: I really _am _dragging this out, aren't I? Sorry, but I'm a bit too _wordy _for my own good. I like keeping chapters at three pages and nothing more, nothing less. Tell me if the story's going too slow in a review, will you? **HINT**

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling not me. Own these people I don't. You not review I kill you if.

Dedications at the end, as usual.

Chapter Six: Of Little Voices and Absolution

__

Barely even friends

Then somebody bends

Unexpectedly

- Beauty and the Beast

Hermione stared at Draco. "Draco, what reason have you given me in the past fifteen hours is reason enough to trust you by crawling into some unknown tent?" she snapped. Draco shrugged, his expression blank. "If you think of it, I haven't given you any reason at all to trust me, let alone call me by my first name like that." 

He let go of the tent flap, letting it fall into place. He got up from the ground, where he was kneeling, and brushed off his hands. "Shall we retire to bed then?" He set off toward the house, and an unexplainable sense of guilt rushed through Hermione and it got more and more intense as she caught up with Draco.

"Draco..." she ventured, feeling small.

"No, call me Malfoy." he said noncommittally, looking away from her.

"_Draco_..." she repeated stubbornly. "I know I shouldn't have brushed you off like that... it's just that I'm... oh..." she sighed, still walking beside Draco, trying to catch his eye. 

Suddenly, without a word, Draco whirled on her, catching her by her slim shoulders and turning her so she faced him. 

"Wha- what are you doing?" she asked, suddenly very aware of the way her body was pressed against his, and that he was staring into her eyes with something... _something _inside those dusky grey depths that made her temporarily forget the cold.

And he pulled her to him, and kissed her.

~*~

Hermione's eyes widened under the sweet onslaught of senses. All she could see through her suddenly hazy eyes was a blur of ivory skin, eyelashes like beautifully drawn ink lines on an equally exquisite cheekbone, and over Draco's shoulder, she could see the jet-black sky, with one star shining, like a metal stud against black velvet. She could hear only the pounding of her heart in her ears, and she could only breathe in the scent of Draco... of mint, stars and stone. 

And she could _feel. _She could feel his body pressed close to hers, one of his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her closer and closer and deeper and deeper into the kiss. The incredible softness of his lips on hers, the warmth... no, the _heat... _his skin was so incredibly smooth... 

She was aware that she had closed her eyes, and was kissing him back, because she knew she wanted this to go on forever and ever and ever... as long as that one star she had glimpsed before closing her eyes would burn, as long as his heart beat against hers, and her blood flowed like liquid fire in her veins... this kiss should last...

It was over.

_Too soon, too soon... don't go... _Hermione tried to reach for Draco, but he was gone from her embrace, standing a good two feet away from her in the dark garden. _He must have backed away... _whispered the little voice in Hermione's head, bringing the blood to her face in a dizzying rush.

"Oh."

Hermione gasped. Draco looked extremely amused. Hermione touched her lips, still a bit dazed. "Oh." _He kissed you, Hermione. And you _liked _it. _Draco crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a spindly tree. "What were you saying?"

Something in his smirking tone snapped sense back into Hermione, and her eyes cleared and she glared at him. "What. In. Bloody. Hell. Was. That?! _Malfoy?!_" she spat, the voices in her head chanting wildly against rational thought. 

Draco smirked once more, his ice-god beauty radiant in the moonlight. "That, _Hermione, _was a reason for you to trust me." He winked. "And for you to call me by my first name. No Malfoy-ing anymore..."

Hermione stepped towards him, her eyes burning. "How dare you..." she whispered. Draco looked unruffled. "How dare I what? Boss you around? Tell you how to live your life... oh come on, Hermione. I've heard them all." he looked at her with equal intensity.

"How dare you..." she stepped up to him, and Draco's expression flickered. "How dare you _kiss me, and act as if nothing happened?!_" she hissed viciously, and her hand whistled through the air, striking Draco on his cheek with a snap as crisp as the frigid night air.

Draco hardly flinched, but the reddening weal on his pale cheek glowed under the starlight. "Well. Maybe I haven't heard that one before." he said simply. " But put it this way. I have to kiss a lot of girls. I have to win a lot of trust. And I have to pretend nothing happened."

Hermione's eyes looked strangely bright, reflecting the metallic gleam of the stars. "But why did you have to do that to me?"

Draco stared at her. "Because." he shrugged.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, and let out a choked sob. Draco stood under the tree, in the half-shadow, looking like a dream come true.

Silence.

And then.

"Was that enough?" Draco didn't move from where he was when he asked the question, simply standing there, looking up at the constellations splashed across the skies.

"Don't talk to me." Hermione's voice was muffled.

"Do I have to kiss you again?" 

"What for?"

"Your trust."

Hermione glared up at him. "My trust can't be won over by a kiss! What are you trying to do, seduce me?"

Draco raised a cool eyebrow. "Hmm. Sounds like a good back-up plan, but what I'm _really _trying to do is give you your birthday present."

Hermione held up her wand. "Isn't this it?" she asked, swallowing slowly. Draco glanced at it. "Yes. And no. Do you want the other half of your present, or are you not easily won over by roses and kisses and conversations under the stars?" his voice grew soft and mocking.

The girl sighed. She seemed drained, and tired. Fragile, even. "Whatever pleases you." Draco chuckled. "Oh, pleases me?" Hermione looked up at him. "No more, okay? Just... get it over with." 

Draco shrugged. "I hoped you would be more enthusiastic." and he began to walk back towards the direction of the tent. Hermione watched him until he was a little way ahead, then sighed softly, a puff in the midnight air, and followed him.

Draco held open the tent flap once more, eyes emotionless, saying not a word. Hermione dropped to her knees. "This had better be good, Draco." she told him, and he shrugged. She crawled in, and Draco followed.

And then, a moment of utter surprise.

"My god. Oh my god!" 

Hermione was standing in the middle of a fairly large-sized room, decorated in blue, green and silver tiles, with soft blue curtains draped around the walls. The light glancing off the pool's water made beautiful patterns on the low ceiling above, which, like the one at Hogwarts, was charmed to look like the one outside. 

The pool was beautifully shaped, and large enough for two people to swim comfortably around without crowding each other. A splashing sound gurgled from a small waterfall nearby, and it was sweet enough to lull anyone to sleep.

Hermione clasped her hands together, and turned to Draco, who was leaning against the wall, surveying his handiwork.

"Oh... _Draco!_"

"Yes, quite nice, isn't it?"

"Nice?! It's beautiful!"

"And it's yours."

Hermione turned red. "Oh no, no... Not after what I did… and… I couldn't... you barely know me. You barely _like _me, and you're giving me a swimming pool for my birthday?!" Draco hardly blinked. "It's a _heated _swimming pool, mind you."

Hermione stepped forward, hand out. "Draco... it's _our _swimming pool. And..." she looked away. "Thank you. I'm also sorry for..."

Draco held up a hand. "No time for Hallmark expressions. You've got two choices. Go to bed, or try out the pool."

Hermione stopped. _Come to think of it, she was quite sleepy. And the perfumed waters weren't making it any easier for her to stay awake... _"I'll be going to bed, Draco. And... thanks again."

Something in his eyes flickered. "I'll be testing the waters. So to speak. Go on, then. Sleep well."

The last thing Hermione saw before she ducked out of the tent was a blonde head sitting by the waterfall, fully clothed.

She smiled. 

The first genuine smile in weeks.

--- --- ----

__

Dedicated to:

Viet Angel, Lime and Salt, Elle-poohbear, Epequa, Sila-chan, mirei-nochi, christine, Moon Revenge, emma, slinky, FairieDust, couch-potato, f0xyness39, KrayZM, sapphire613, EmiV, Jessica and Felicity. 

Thanks for the reviews! :)

__

*glomp!*

Also to: EroticAngelz and Lady Alanna Salmalin of Conte, who both threatened me on pain of electrocution until I write more chapters. *grin!* Also to KAOS, who offered me a Mercedes-Benz [poster? aw…] in return for the uploading of the next chapter. Here you go, then!

And to Katana47, whose faithful reviews never fail to make me smile. I still owe you a ficlet, m'dear!

And last, but definitely not least, to The Hate of Abel, luv ya too! 


	7. Unsent c1

AN: I am _really _enjoying this. I just wish there were more reviews. **HINT**! Hey, good news… I've settled in at my new school, and I've made some friends... and they seem like keepers. *grin* Yay!

Disclaimer: "Um, good morning, Ms. Rowling! May Draco please come out and play?"

(Oh, and the haiku down there? Mine. The song lyrics scattered through the fic? At the end, sweeties!)

Chapter Seven: Unsent [1]

__

I sit and listen

To the scritch-scritch-scratch scribble

The quill's silent tongue

- Original Haiku 

It stayed the same. The schedule, of course. 

But there were some changes. And they were not entirely unpleasant. One was that Hermione thanked Draco for the food. And he always nodded back. That was just about it. Unless you count the short, yet insightful conversations they had every now and then, when their paths crossed around that Hellhole.

"Draco?"

"Hermione."

"What?"

A slight shrug. "You called me."

"No I di... oh, yes, I did."

"..."

"..."

"Well?"

"What do you want, Draco?"

"My Manor back. And while you're at it, maybe a nice cup of tea. Earl Grey, mind you."

"Oh shut up."

"Thank you.

~*~

__

dear lou we learned so much I realize we won't be able to talk for some time 

and I understand that as I do you

the long distance thing was the hardest and we did as well as we could 

we were together during a very tumultuous time

in our lives I will always have your back and be curious about you 

about your career about your whereabouts

Hermione sat in the half-dark, scribbling out a letter by the light of a candle-stub.

__

Dear Harry,

It's been quite a long time since I've received a letter from you. I used to receive a letter every other day, and well... the post has been slowing down. Don't worry, I understand. I know it's expensive to have your letters Pre-Located and all, so I won't expect a reply.

But I'd love one, though.

I was just wondering how you, and Ron and Parvati are doing. Ron tells me they're doing fine, preparing for their wedding and all... I'm sorry, but I really don't think I'll be able to make it, Harry dear. My Paladin duties are confining me to this place and only this place.

I think I may be able to work out an agreement with the Ministry though, so I can make it over there for your birthday... which is something I really don't want to miss.

We're doing just fine over here. Draco hasn't gone overboard yet, and I haven't ripped out his throat either. We're on speaking terms, actually, and I'm quite surprised to find out that Draco's a pleasant young man. I personally think that his run-in with the Death Eaters mellowed out his incredibly unbearable arrogance... 

Say hello to Ron for me, and to Parvati as well. Tell them I wish them the best of luck!

Love and kisses, 

__

Hermione

--- She performed a quick Drying Spell on the ink, and walked down the hall to Draco's room, knocking twice on the closed door.

"Draco?"

"Hermione."

"Ah... are you busy?"

"Not really."

"Could you..."

The door swung open and the letter was out of her hands before Hermione could finish her sentence. She was left staring at a shut door once more, but this time, with empty hands.

She sighed, knowing that Draco would perform the tricky Pre-Locator Charm for her. 

"Thank you." she called through the door, and without expecting a reply, returned to her room.

~*~

__

She cast a Silencing Charm on her room, on her quills, and on her sputtering candle. Though it was two in the morning, and Draco was most likely asleep, Hermione was still very _private _about her diary-writing. 

Pausing with her quill over her red-and-gold bound diary, she listened for suspicious noises, and unwillingly called back the memory of the day Draco caught her writing in her diary.

__

flashback:

"And what is that, Hermione?" he insinuated, leaning against the doorframe.

Hermione frowned. "Why don't you knock?" He shrugged, an elegant lifting of the shoulders. "You didn't hear me." "Then knock twice."

Draco smirked. "Ah, the infamous cliché. _Accio!" _The diary flew off the desk and smoothly into his hands, much to Hermione's outrage. 

"Draco! You-"

Draco glanced at it, shrugged and tossed it back to her. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in your deep, dark and sordid secrets." He turned to leave. "I've got enough of my own." As he walked off down the hallway, Hermione, wanting to have the last word, shouted out "You've got that right!"

but was only answered by a slamming of the door.

__

end flashback.

You keep on denying

Who you are and how you're feeling

Baby, we're not buying

Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling

Face it like a grown-up

When ya gonna own up

That ya got, got, got it bad

Hermione chuckled softly, a sound instantly suppressed by the Silencing Charm which hung over the room like a blanket.

_Dear Diary,_

No suspicious happenings lately, unless you count Draco winking at me over breakfast. Silly git. 

Apparently, the Ministry of Magic won't let me off my Paladin duties for Harry's birthday. They don't have a replacement, and somehow, they insisted that "outside forces made it impossible for them to re-think their decision". 

Maybe they mean that there has been a lot of Dark activity lately. I wouldn't know, because I can never get my hands on the _Daily Prophet _that the Ministry sends over every morning. Draco swallows it up, and he reads me choice articles every now and then, with rather "amusing" statements added for embellishment.

"I like everything embellished, Hermione dear." he said yesterday. 

How dare he.

I haven't been receiving replies from Harry for three straight weeks, and this seems unnatural, because Ron and Parvati's wedding is coming up, and the last time I received a letter from Harry, which would be almost a month ago, he sounded quite excited about all that.

At first, I suspected Draco of foul play. He and I had made an agreement that if he sends off my letters for me, I won't spy on him in the baths, or the pool, for that matter. Why would I do such a lowdown, despicably silly, so very _female _deed?! Sometimes, Draco can be so strange.

Anyway, I suspected him of not keeping his part of the bargain, but everytime I've had him send off a letter, I always receive a _Successful Pre-Location _Letter from the Post Office... so I don't think he's being sneaky. Well, sneakier than usual.

The candle's burning low, and the Silencing Charm wearing off. I can hear Draco moving around downstairs... at three in the morning?! Must go find out what he's up to.

__

Love,

Hermione

__

*It's too cliché,

I won't say I'm in love*

~*~

__

Disclaimer: Title of chapter and first paragraph of song lyrics were written and performed by Alanis Morrissette. Second and last paragraph was taken from the Disney _Hercules _soundtrack, from the song "Won't Say I'm In Love." (I've also used it for a H/H songfic. *kaheekheekheek*)

Shameless plug time:

http://smashed.blogspot.com ~ my blog

http://www.livejournal.com/~nightwalker18 ~ my LJ. (with fragments of my literary insanity.)

Dedicated to all who reviewed. You rock!


	8. Unsent c2

AN: I'm so glad you guys like this... *glomp*

Disclaimer: "Good morning Ms. Rowling! May Draco please come out and play?" 

*Oh, and the haiku's mine. Same with the plot. The songs used are as follows: _Friend of Mine_ was performed (I don't know if she wrote it) by the excellent Lea Salonga. _Gunning Down Romance _was written and performed by Savage Garden, and the song was also used as a another songfic of mine.

__

Dedications at the bottom.

Chapter Eight: Unsent [2]

__

I sit and listen

To the scritch - scratch - scribble of

the quill's silent tongue

- Original Haiku

Harry sat at his desk, watching in fascination as a spot on his desk began to shine blurrily, and a distinct shape of a bulky envelope began to take place. He waited a few more minutes for the magic to wear off, knowing very well what would happen if he became impatient and grabbed the letter while it was still crackling. 

_"Harry! What in bloody hell happened to your hand?!"_

"Shut up, Ron. I grabbed Hermione's letter before it fully Located."

"Ah... excited to get to the contents, I see."

*through gritted teeth* "Shut. Up."

"Okay, okay... come on, let's get you to a mediwizard."

Harry picked up the letter, smiling in expectation.

__

I've loved you for so long, you are a friend of mine

He slit it open and three letters fell out, each addressed to Ron, Parvati and him. His was written in red ink, and he noted this with misplaced satisfaction. Setting aside the two other letters, he opened his and began to read.

__

I know this is how it's going to be

As he did, the smile faded off his face, and his emerald eyes darkened into forest green. "What is she talking about?" he whispered. He set the letter down, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking out his window. He fingered the tall stack of _Successful Re-Location Letters _on his desk, one for each letter he had sent Hermione since she had left for her Paladin duty. 

__

I've loved you then and I love you still, you're a friend of mine

In three months… sixty letters. Each letter equal to two hours of grueling incantations and Protection spells. Each letter equal to one reply from Hermione, short, but so very sweet.

__

And babe, is this all we ever could be?

Harry picked up his quill and dipped it in the special red ink that he used for Hermione's letters alone. 

__

Dear Hermione...

I miss having you around the house. You and your stacks of books, your knowledge about simple, everyday things...

__

You've told me things I've never known

Would you believe, that ever since you left, the quality of the food, conversation, and everyday life here has been... degrading? We miss you so much.

__

I've shown you love you've never shown

_I _miss you so much. I really wish you would take a little break and come visit us. Days have been empty without you, and I've been missing you so much it's like a permanent ache. 

Sure, Ron's company, and Parvati's okay... but you're _Hermione. _My Hermione. The Hermione. 

__

But then again

When you cry

I'm always at your side

I hope Malfoy's been treating you well. Don't forget that we're always here for you no matter what. All you need is to write us back, tell us if he isn't treating you well, if he's still the arrogant bastard he really is.

He doesn't deserve you, Hermione. He needs you, yes... but that's for his own selfish needs.

_We... _no... _I _need you, because you're my smile.

__

You tell me about the love you had

And I listen very eagerly

But deep inside you never see

This feeling of emptiness

It makes me feel sad

I've been reading between the lines of your letters, and I noticed that you talk often about him. What is he to you but a mere duty? A job? Something that needs to be protected, but can offer you nothing in return?

And Hermione... what are _you _to _him? _Nothing. You know how a Malfoy's mind works... exploit your slaves until they can serve you no more, then get rid of them the most horrible way possible. 

That's what you are to him, nothing more than a slave... and I hate the fact that you seem to be falling for him.

I love you, Hermione...

_Harry_

Harry glanced at his letter and sealed it up, preparing himself for the two-hour long process of Pre-Locating the letter to Hermione. The only love of his life.

~*~

Draco watched disinterestedly as an envelope began to shimmer on his desk. His dusky eyes flickered over the familiar, messy script on the front.

_To Miss Hermione Granger_

From Mr. Harry Potter

Marked: Confidential

Draco chuckled dryly and waited for the magic to wear off. Finally, he picked up the heavy letter in his hands, raising an eyebrow coolly.

He stared down at it.

And finally.

"What the hell."

And he slit it open.

~*~

"Draco!"

"What?"

His voice was muffled through the heavy door separating them. Hermione knocked on it once more. "Have any letters arrived for me?"

Footsteps. And the door swung open. Draco stood there, all beautiful pale five feet, nine inches of him, looking down at her coolly.

"From your boyfriend? No."

Hermione frowned, but looked slightly crestfallen. "Really?" Draco smirked, not unkindly, though. "Oh, what's the matter? Is he off cavorting with some cheap veela? Loving girlfriend worried?" Hermione snapped.

"Just because you don't have anyone of your own to care about, and who cares for you too, doesn't mean you have to destroy other people's relationships!"

She stalked off down the hall. Draco breathed in deeply then called after her "How do you know he cares for you? Has he even _replied _to all those love letters you've been sending him every other day?"

Hermuione whirled around. "My love life is none of your business!" she shouted, but she was speaking to a slammed door.

~*~

Draco glanced at the piles of parchment scattered on his desk with a blank eye. He stood up and walked over to them, eyes flickering from one letter to another, catching scrawled phrases here and there.

_"Dearest Hermione..."_

"come home..."

"Ron's fine..."

"That Malfoy git..."

"... he's a bastard..."

"...useless..."

"he'll just... hurt you..."

"never... love you... way... I do"

"Love, Harry."

"Love always, Harry..."

"I love you..."

"he doesn't... never will..."

Draco stood over the letters, dating back months. He picked one up, and lazily held it to the flickering flame of his candle, taking pleasure in the way it curled up into black ashes, Harry's words of endearment reduced to nothing but black smudges.

A whisper in the darkened room.

_"Incendio."_

Flickers of green flame, and the letters were no more.

"Potter..." his tone was soft, and mocking, slightly hurt. "That hurt."

~*~


	9. Inconceivable

AN: More, you say?

Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter universe, I would not be writing these insignificant little ficlets to pass the time while waiting for the fifth book (and my next burst of fame and glory) to come out. Wait... yes, I would. Heh. But I'm not J.K. Rowling. And I don't own anything here but the plot.

Dedicated to: My burned finger. It's making typing painful, but I don't care. I... must get... chapter... out.

Chapter Nine: Inconceivable

_Why when you see me,_

_You pretend I'm not there?_

_But when I see your eyes_

_Somehow you to care_

_Unbelievable_

_Inconceivable_

_Need to know if we're going anywhere..._

_- Why, M2M         _

*you can stop sniggering now.*

            Hermione wondered why Harry wasn't replying to her letters, though she always sent them off diligently. Harry wondered why Hermione never mentioned _his _letters, though he always received a reply _and _a Successful Pre-Location Letter. Ron wondered how Hermione could put up with "that slimy Malfoy bastard" for so long.

            And Draco simply sat back and smiled.

            It was an uneventful day in the beautiful October that Hermione went and sat down at breakfast with Draco, who was seemingly uninterested in whatever she had to say that morning. 

            Well, maybe not in what she had to _wear._

"Nice knickers, Hermione." he remarked blandly, not looking away from the paper in front of him. "Do those come in black silk?" 

            Hermione glanced down at herself and blushed, immediately pulling her robe closed. "Sod off, Draco." she snapped, and bit into a warm slice of cinnamon toast. Draco chuckled.

            "A letter came for you. First one in... oh I don't know... months?" he smirked. "Looks like your _boyfriend _took some time off from shagging pretty young virgins to scribble a hasty reply to one of your letters." he remarked coolly, and Hermione blinked, trying not to show just how much that flat comment stung.

            Draco folded up the paper and set it carefully aside, taking an infuriatingly long time to pull that letter out of his pocket. But when he tossed it across the table at Hermione, it was still as crisp and as clean as it was when it had Located on his desk.

            Hermione caught it and eagerly slit it open with a bread knife, eliciting a haughty sniff from Draco. ("People who don't carry around their own silver-plated letter openers... really now...")

            She shook the piece of parchment out, smiling happily, heart pounding in her ears.

            _What does he have to say? It's been so long... waited so long... loved him for so long... what will he tell me... does he miss me too?_

            "Someone's excited."

            "Sod off, Draco."

            "Do you realize that that phrase was just about the only verbal piece you've offered to me since the moment you woke up?"

            Hermione fixed him with a glare so fierce that he suddenly became very interested in filling the little squares in his waffles with different flavors of jam and marmalade.

            Hermione unfolded the short letter, and as she scanned the sparse lines, it seemed as if a curtain had drawn itself closed behind her eyes. 

            By the time she folded the letter shut, her hands were shaking and her breath coming in hitches.

            Draco looked up, and noticed the unnatural brightness in her eyes. "Hermione?" he half-asked, half-stated. She glanced up at him, and a tear fell into her coffee. "Draco." she whispered.

            He set his fork down, eyebrows raised. "Is something wrong?"

            She shook her head, wordlessly. Draco crossed his arms in arrogance. "Oh yes there is. You've always been painfully transparent, Hermione."

            Hermione bowed her head. After a few minutes silence, in which Draco stared at her, the coffeepot whistled in the background, the world spun crazily to a halt... she raised her head and stared back at him with dark eyes.

            "Speaking of painful." she muttered, tossing the opened letter to him, and rushing off to her room. Draco winced slightly at the slam of the door, and glanced down at the letter, which seemed to have been written by a shaking hand.

            He also noted, with some sort of satisfaction, the dried tearmarks on the parchment.

            _Ah, so you cry easily, Potter._

He sighed and closed the letter without reading it. After all, he had read it before, and knew exactly what it said.

            _Dearest Hermione,_

_            I've realized that I will not be seeing you for some time, due to _[here, the ink had blotted, as if Harry had taken a long time thinking of what to write] _certain circumstances._

_            Maybe time apart will do us both a bit of good, Hermione. I don't know if I'll be able to carry on with my life tied down to a woman who I'll probably never see again. A woman I'll never be able to hold. To touch. To kiss. _

_            Please don't think I don't have commitment, because I've been committed to you for the past three years. _

_            I doubt if this relationship will survive over such great distance, and sadly... I've been doubting you too. I know how hard it can get living alone with only one person to keep you company, and especially if that person is as cold-hearted as Malfoy, you'll be seeking attention and affection. _

_            Most likely from him._

_            So, I'm letting this go, Hermione, and if we ever see each other again, please don't expect all wounds to heal immediately. _

_            Take care of yourself, and please don't get _[more blots] _caught up with Malfoy's lies._

_            Your friend,_

_            Harry_

            Draco sat and stared at that innocent piece of parchment for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of sobbing from Hermione's room. "Potter..." he whispered. "I never lie."

            He pointed his wand to the letter and whispered the spell he should have performed before Hermione even saw the letter at all. 

            _"Incendio."_

He waited for the ashes to blow away, then he got up, wiped his lips with a napkin, and walked up to Hermione's door.

            He was going to show her just how "cold-hearted" Draco could get.


	10. Cookies and Roses

AN: *hands reader a bag of gummi bears* There you go! For taking the time to click on this little story. I'll give you another bag if you leave a review! *shameless grin*

Disclaimer: *Draco's drawl* You really think I own Potter? _Tuh, _don't make me laugh. 

Dedicated to: All who reviewed! And will review!

Chapter Ten: Of Cookies and Chivalry

__

"When a lady is down, offer her your hand. That is chivalry."

"I disagree. When a lady is down, offer her your hand. If she accepts it... well, that's _chivalry."_

- (I thought this up in two seconds.) A conversation between two British gentlemen.

Hermione was angry. She was angry at Harry, for breaking up with her. Just. Like. That. She was angry at Draco, who could have been a bit more compassionate. 

And most of all, she was angry at herself, for accepting this Paladin Duty, and leaving all her friends behind... for one man who couldn't care less about her.

She was angry, tired, scared, lonely and sad. But most of all, she was broken-hearted.

Three knocks on the door.

Hermione raised her tear-smudged face from the damp pillow and called out: "Who is it? And whoever you are, go away!"

A few seconds silence, then Draco's voice. He sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

"Only one person in the whole world could be possibly be standing outside your door now, Hermione... and tough luck, it happens to be me."

Hermione sighed. _I don't need this now... _"What do you want?" she called back, more in exasperation than ever.

Silence again. Then. "More like, what do _you _want? Chocolate chip, sugar, or peanut butter?"

Hermione closed her eyes, and slowly counted to ten. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six... ohwhathebloodyhell..._

She stormed to the door and flung it open with a well-placed _Alohomora _charm. 

Draco stood in the doorway, one cool eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips, and holding a plate of...

"Cookies?" Hermione stared at the warm pastries disbelievingly. 

Draco shrugged. "Angry women are best placated with saccharine." He set the plate down on her desk. "They're less likely to bite that way... or so I've been told. And I'd rather like to keep my skin intact, thank you very much." He turned to leave, but then stopped and looked back at Hermione as she stood there in her rumpled nightclothes, swollen eyes and frizzed up hair.

"And by the way, you look like something the cat dragged in after a long, drunken mating night."

Hermione snapped out of her dazed stupor and glared fiercely at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted her with a lazy hand. "Yes, yes, I know. _Sod off, Draco… _Can't you think of anything more creative? If we're going to be stuck here together, we might as well bicker properly."

Hermione's arms dropped limply to her sides, and she suddenly looked very tired. "I was about to thank you for the cookies, but since you seem to be in such a receiving mood today, never mind. Now go outside and play."

She pulled out her wand, flicked it, and the door slammed shut just as Draco opened his mouth to protest. 

She heaved a sigh, drawing her hand across her eyes, and in that soft sound was the misery of three years of lost love. Hermione was about to flop back into bed, and fall into a troubled sleep, but then the plate of cookies on her desk caught her eye.

And in spite of herself, she smiled.

~*~

Draco stood outside her door, listening closely. He heard the barely audible splash of milk being poured into a cup. If he listened _very _closely, he could hear the plate being slid across the desk.

But what mattered most was what he _couldn't _hear anymore.

Hermione's sobs.

He set off down the hallway, and the afternoon light streaming in from the dusty window illuminated his smile.

~*~

She picked up a cookie and bit into it appreciatively. Every gulp of cold milk, every mouthful of warm chocolate, the thoughts just flashed through her mind like a slide show gone horribly wrong.

_I knew this was coming... maybe I should have broken up with him first... doesn't he know? doesn't he care... what if Draco was right... about Harry shaggi- no... _loving _some other girl... doesn't he trust me not to fall for Draco? does he think I'm that desperate? doesn't he know how much I still love him? these are good cookies... and anyway, I can't love Draco..._

I can't.

I shouldn't.

I will not.

I'll try not to.

Hermione swallowed the last bit of cookie and picked up her wand. _It's just about time to begin reinforcing those wards again._

~*~

"Ouch!"

"Careful, Hermione. If you're going to be crashing into me like that every time our paths cross in this godforsaken hole, I'd better invest in some dragon-hide armour."

"Oh, shut up, Draco."

He chuckled softly and turned back to whatever he was doing to the rosebushes outside the house.

Hermione sighed disgustedly and picked herself up off the ground. She turned to the wall beside her and began putting up Screening Charms, muttering to herself all the while.

"Can't even... _Shroudovia! _pick a lady up off the ground... inconsiderate..."

Draco continued fiddling with the bushes. "I would have offered my hand if I knew you were going to take it." he pointed out matter-of-factly. 

Hermione sniffed. "What if I _was _going to take it, but you didn't offer it to me in the first place?" 

Draco shrugged. "I'd know if you were in the mood... or the state of impartiality to take my hand." Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and continued setting up shields.

"How would you know? What are you... psychic?"

"No... but put it this way... I know what women want."

Hermione faced him, and with her hands on her hips, she was the very picture of offended femininity. "Oh, really?"

Draco looked up at her, a slight smirk on his lips. "Yes. I do."

Hermione smirked right back at him. "Well, what do I want, then?"

Draco shrugged. "Me."

"Oh!" Hermione turned bright pink. "You... you conceited bastard!" she huffed, flouncing off to the other side of the house, and the loud cracklings from Illusion Charms began to sizzle the afternoon air.

"You're only affected because you know it's true." Draco's voice was calm and exceedingly infuriating. "No, it's not." Hermione sniffed once more.

He came around the fence, smiling. "Well, whether it is or not, come look at what I did to the rosebushes." She glanced at him. He spread his hands. "You didn't trust me on the swimming pool... now will you trust me on the rosebushes?"

Hermione slipped her wand into her pocket. "Well. What mischief have you done this time, Draco Malfoy?"

He led her over to the bushes. "The kind you would appreciate."

The once-barren rosebushes were now blooming with roses the color of fresh blood. The heavy heads hung over the thorns like so many smears of paint from an artist's careless paintbrush. And in the chilly afternoon air, the perfume was ambrosial.

Hermione couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "Oh... they're beautiful." Draco nodded. "I know." She shot him an annoyed glance before exclaiming "Wait... it's September! Draco... they'll die in the cold."

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, then he shrugged once more, an elegant lifting of the hands. "Well, all the better to enjoy their beauty now. The shorter their life will be, the more beautiful they are." 

Hermione looked stricken. "We can cast Warming Charms, or No-Frost Spells... they're too beautiful to lose..." but Draco had already turned back to the house. 

"No, Hermione. Leave them as they are."

He paused, his hand on the door handle.

"And... thank you." 

He went in.

Hermione stood in the garden, breathing in the scent of the dying roses, watching the sunset, and doubting herself all over again.


	11. A Bubbly Prelude

AN: Okay. I'm lost. I have absolutely no idea where this story is going next. And this chapter isn't even relevant to the plot at all. It's just... _friction. _Hehe.

Disclaimer: No, I'm not J.K. Rowling. I just like playing with her characters, and making them play with each other, as Draco and Hermione do in this little interlude. *Is that reason enough to make you keep reading?!*

Dedicated to: You. Now leave a review. Or you'll make me blue. *rolls eyes*

Chapter Eleven: A Bubbly Prelude (to a Bubblier Interlude)

__

Intimacy among the scented bubbles.

- an O.A.F. (Original Archangela Fragment)

"An Auror does not waste precious time on frivolity." Hermione intoned, staring at the modest black bathing suit lying on her bed. _But frivolity is one of the most beautiful things in life... _wheedled the little voice in her head.

"It's eight degrees outside! In the middle of November, for cripes' sake!" she glanced through the cold grey window at the cold grey sky. _But it's a _heated _pool_, _remember?_

"I'm too tired?" she ventured weakly, fingering the soft material of the hardly used bathing suit. _Then that warm, scented water is the perfect place to relax... _whispered the Voice.

Silence. Hermione laid a hand on the bathing suit. 

"Draco might be there."

The Voice took a while in answering.

Finally.

_All the better, then._

Hermione frowned. "No!"

But seemingly as if she had already been convinced, she gathered up the bathing suit and sneaked out the door, making sure Draco was sound asleep in his bedroom by the use of a Spying Charm.

~*~

She smiled at the sight of the pool glowing with tiny underwater lights. Hermione knelt down and turned on a few of the taps, testing each one. As the pool filled up, she turned to the wall and slipped out of her bathrobe, glancing noncommittally at her reflection on one of the numerous mirrors lining the walls.

_Just like Draco. To install a lot of mirrors somewhere he's going to be a lot of the time._

Hermione paused in the middle of the act of stepping into the pool. _somewhere he's going to be a lot of the time... _She glanced around her, half-expecting Draco to barge in any moment soon.

A few minutes passed, and Hermione sighed with relief.

No blond men with pale skin and beautiful eyes. Just the crickets chirping their lullabies and the comforting gurgle of the warm water around her ankles.

She smiled, and stepped deeper into the pool.

~*~

Fifteen minutes later found Hermione sitting by the waterfall, chest deep in pink and blue water, eyes closed in blissful relaxation.

"Don't you think that three in the morning is a bit too early for a swim?"

*_splash!*_

"Draco! Get the bloody hell out of here!"

"I thought I owned this pool too..."

He looked slightly hurt, and very amused. Hermione, however, who had dived into the pool at the sound of his voice was glaring up at him with veritable venom in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Not now! I'm in it!"

"Oh, so that means I own you too?"

He smirked at her, and Hermione wondered just exactly _how _a man could get up at three a.m., walk through a freezing garden in the middle of November dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and boxers, be faced with an extremely incensed Hermione Granger, have tousled hair, and still look as charming as the devil.

_How the hell does he do it?_

"Just... get out."

Draco frowned. "I was planning on taking a dip myself, you know." Hermione glared. "Don't you dare."

"Why? Afraid of me?" his smirk grew wider. Hermione blushed. "No! I don't... it's just that... I'm in a bathing suit." she lamely replied. Draco shrugged. "Isn't that what you normally wear when swimming? Unless you prefer to wear nothing at all..."

"And if that's your case, Hermione dear..." the bathrobe slid to the floor. "I have no objection to that at all."

Hermione tried to look away as he dove into the water wearing nothing but his black boxers. She swam over to the farthest end of the pool and bobbed in the water, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to look as irate as possible.

Draco sent a small, magical wave to splash her from across the pool. He called out "What? Do you think I'm going to grab you and _ravish _you like those love scenes in those cheesy Victorian romance novels?" 

A small laugh. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Hermione, but life doesn't really go along with those sad fantasies you read because your own love life is unsatisfactory. And if you're waiting for me to jump you..."

Another chuckle. "Nope. Not going to happen." 

He sent another smirk her way. "Unless you ask me nicely."

Hermione stared at him, dumbstruck. Finally she pulled random words out of the air, enough to hurl a spiteful "Stuff it!" his way.

He laughed again and began doing laps on his side of the pool. "Have it your way. But, really... the water's _much _warmer here."

~*~

Thirty minutes later:

Hermione was still standing in the same spot in the pool, arms still crossed over her chest and a sulky expression on her face. On the other side of the pool, Draco was floating on his back and amusing himself by conjuring up silver and green bubbles and making them float over to Hermione and either pop in her face or cling to her hair.

*_splish*_

"You're no fun." Draco called to her. "Back in Hogwarts, Pansy used to chase me around the prefect's bathroom..."

"Naked, I assume?" Hermione replied sourly.

Draco looked nostalgic. "Of course. Those were the days..." He shrugged, and began to kick his feet leisurely, paddling himself through the swirls of purplish water. "How about you and Potter? Any _frivolous romps _you could tell me about? Because, quite frankly, you can get so boring."

Hermione scowled at his floating form. "Oh, so you expect me to entertain you with the sordid details of my equally sordid love life?" she spat, and the sarcasm was vitriolic enough to scour a Muggle bathroom floor.

Draco grinned blandly. "Why not? But I sorely doubt anything you ever did with Potter would be... _interesting _enough to deserve my attention... considering his Y.I.V. Image..."

Curiousity took over. "What?" Hermione asked, uncrossing her arms and watching the way Draco glided through the water.

"Young Innocent Virgin. Isn't that what he was?"

Hermione spoke before thinking. "No." Draco laughed, and righted himself in the water. "I figured that much. What about you?" he cocked an eyebrow in a devilish grin. Hermione blushed. "I wouldn't tell you..."

Draco _tut-tutted. _"Another innocent. How... _sad._" Hermione frowned and splashed him. "I may be no whore, but I'm no prude either, Draco." Draco looked thoughtful. "Whore? As in Pansy Parkinson?"

Hermione snorted. "Your little girlfriend? I'm surprised at how long you were able to turn a blind eye to her little exploits in the Astronomy Tower with your Slytherin pals." 

Draco laughed softly. "Oh, I wasn't blind to those. I was just _occupied _with _my _little exploits." Hermione blanched. "Oh."

He laughed again. "Put an expression on, Hermione. Your face might freeze that way." He swam over to the side of the pool and hoisted himself up. 

"That could be such a waste." he remarked as he slipped into his bathrobe and out the tent door.


	12. A Bubbly Interlude

AN: Here comes the delicious part. Don't forget to drop a review, sexy people.

Disclaimer: Nah, don't own them. Just... poking 'em around.

Dedications at the bottom, of course. Scroll down, and you might just see your name.

Chapter Twelve: A Bubbly Interlude

__

Intimacy among the scented bubbles.

- O.A.F.

"No. Stay on your side of the pool."

"You can't stay that prickly forever, Hermione. Sooner or later you'll fall victim to my irresistible charms"

"Stuff it."

It was in the middle of November, and the weather outside was viciously frigid. However, inside the charmed tent, the swimming pool was toasty and warm, not to mention incredibly relaxing.

Hermione leaned back against the edge of the pool, letting the warm bubbles ease the tension from her shoulders. _God knows just how much I've been stressing myself. _she thought lazily.

"Well?"

Draco's expectant voice carried from across the pool, where he was sitting by the waterfall. Hermione closed her eyes and took her time in replying. 

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to bicker with me?"

"No. I'm too relaxed."

He sounded petulant. "Oh, come on. I was beginning to enjoy it."

"No. Play with yourself for a while."

Draco laughed. "Won't that make me go blind?"

Hermione's eyes blinked open and she spluttered. "I... didn't mean it like that!" Draco smirked at her. "Well, if you insist..." 

"No!" Hermione pushed away from the edge of the pool, where she had been reclining a while ago.

"Watch out, you're leaning... Hey!"

_*splash* _

"Ouch!" She saw stars, and then dull pain, which grew into blinding agony. 

Hermione gasped, placing her palm to her forehead, where she had slipped and crashed into the cold tile wall of the pool. She stood in the chest-deep water, eyes shut tight, and when she looked at her palm, there was blood.

"Ohh..."

"What happened?"

Draco knelt by the side of the pool, bending down to her, his wand in his outstretched palm. "Come here." Hermione shook her head slowly, and the pain throbbed behind her eyelids. 

An impatient sniff, a slight splash, and Hermione was aware that Draco was standing right in front of her in the pool. She felt the water swash around her body, and she shivered, despite the warmth in the bubbles. 

She kept her eyes closed against the ache, knowing that if she opened them, the world would spin around and it would be washed away from underneath her in a swirl of scented bubbles. Hermione felt Draco's hand under her chin, and gently, but firmly, tip her face up.

"And I thought _you _were the mediwizard." he told her calmly. "It's nothing... just a bruise with some blood... that's all." 

"Then why does it hurt so much?" Hermione cried out, angry at his calm behavior. 

"Shh. Paladins are supposed to be calm and collected and cool..." 

"Paladins are also supposed to avoid all physical injury of the sort... ohh..." Hermione pointed out, but something so painfully _cold _swept over the pain in her forehead, something that ached horribly for the briefest of moments, something that reached down to her very bones and left her knees weak...

"What in bloody hell was... that?" she opened her eyes and the pain was gone. Just. Like. That.

Draco stood in front of her with a smug grin on his face and his wand in his hand. "That, my dear, was an example of the highest form of Medical Healing. Maybe _I _should have been my own Paladin." 

Hermione frowned at him. Now that the white-hot pain in her head was gone, she began to feel some of the old irritation sweeping back. "Oh, shut up. You know very well you probably won't survive ten minutes with the De..."

Draco's expression flickered. "You're still bleeding." Hermione stopped dead. "What?" She put her hand up to her forehead, and it came back wet and sticky with crimson blood. "Ohh... Draco!"

He grabbed her, held her steady. "Don't panic. It doesn't hurt, does it?" His silvery eyes, suddenly dark with worry, searched hers. Hermione looked away. "No... it doesn't... but still..."

__

*drip*

A drop of blood slid down her cheek and fell into the pink water, the tendrils of red spreading out like a thousand ghostly arms. Hermione stared down at it in horror.

Draco sighed. "I don't know any spell that stops Numb Bleeding... but I know that it's an after-effect of the spell I used to heal you. You'll just have to... wait." Angry tears began to sparkle in Hermione's eyes. "Can't you think of _anything?" _she almost wailed, holding her hand up to her forehead, the frustration finally too much for her.

He considered her with cool, grey eyes. "Well, my mother used to tell me that a kiss would heal anything." Hermione felt the warm tears slip down her cheek, and mingle with the thin trickle of blood. "If you're just going to poke fun at me..." 

She stopped dead.

Draco drew her near, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. 

When he pulled away, she saw that there was blood on his bare chest, where she had pressed close to him. She blushed, and tried to avoid his steady gaze. 

"Go on. Blush. It matches the blood." 

"You aren't doing anything to make this stop, you know."

She pulled herself up to the side of the pool and grabbed her wand, and began whispering tourniquet charms to herself.

"I can kiss you again."

"Forget it. You'll just get blood all over you."

"I don't mind."

He drew closer, setting down his wand on the dry ground outside the pool. Hermione put down her wand beside his, distracted. "It's beginning to thin out, Draco... don't you think that's a good..."

She closed her eyes in surprise as she felt his warm, moist lips touch her forehead again. She sucked in her breath, bit her lip, wondering just exactly why he was playing her emotions like this. 

He looked down at her, and she frowned angrily down at her hands. _Why?! _

"Should I do that again?" he whispered softly. 

Hermione felt her heartbeat pounding furiously in her ears. _Why?! _

He moved closer, and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. 

She looked up, opened her mouth to speak...

and met his lips in a kiss.

~*~

She felt the whole world spin and dissolve into the pink, foamy water bubbling softly around their bodies. She wondered vaguely if it was loss of blood... then she felt the soft pressure of his lips upon hers...

_Oh._

Hermione shut her eyes, and put her palms on Draco's chest, meaning to push away, but his hand found the nape of her neck, and pressed her closer, deeper into the kiss. She tried, half-heartedly, to move away... but when she felt his tongue touch her lips, she realized that it didn't matter. Nothing did anymore.

_The heat, the touch, the pressure, his lips, his hands, his mouth, his tongue..._

Draco.

She could feel his heart beating against hers, and she could hear a heartbeat pounding in her ears again... but if it was his, or hers, she didn't care. Hermione felt his wet hands slide down her body, to encircle her waist and pull her to him in a crushing embrace.

She gasped softly, then stared up at him with wide eyes. Draco looked down at her, and his eyes had deepened to the verge of jet black. They stayed like that for a million eternities, teetering on the brink of temptation and practicality... breath to breath, body to body...

And Hermione did something she would probably regret later on. 

She grabbed Draco and kissed him. 

_Deeply. Madly. Impulsively. _

I need you.

And I just won't admit it.

~*~


	13. The Proverbial Morning After

AN: Are you loving me yet?!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns them. I'm just being evil.

Dedicated to:

Chapter 13: The Proverbial "Morning After"

__

When I wake up in the morning and you're wearing my clothes...

- "Answer the Phone", Sugar Ray

Stretch. _Ooh_. *click, click, click* 

She could feel the aches ease slowly out of her spine. _So soft. So warm. _She rolled over contentedly in the soft bed. She could hear the world around her waking up... the gentle whirring of the electric fan blowing it's cool breeze against her bare skin, a slight scritch-scratching sound that must be the blinds at the window... 

_Wait._

Her bed wasn't this soft. She didn't have an electric fan in her room. She didn't have blinds either. She used Cooling and Darkening Charms. 

_Wait._

Bare... skin? 

Hermione sat bolt upright, the memories of last night rushing back into her head. 

Draco sat at the foot of the bed she had been lying in, calmly watching her over a small easel... on which - if Hermione just turned her head slightly to the side - was drawn a portrait of her fast asleep... and nude. 

"Have a good sleep?" Draco languidly reached out and added a few strokes onto the portrait. 

Hermione immediately wrapped herself in the bedsheets, and bright red with fury and embarrassment, turned to Draco and asked the question that she already knew the answer to.

"What happened last night?"

Draco smirked. He had obviously been waiting for that. 

"Oh, don't you remember? That would be such a waste..." 

Hermione gripped the bedsheets and called back the memories...

_Blood. Bubbles. Swimming Pool. A kiss._

More kisses. 

More and more and more and more... until she was gasping for breath and clutching at him. 

More and more and more... and she was still pleading for more. And more and more and more...

He swept her off her feet... somehow...they managed to end up in his room.

In his bed.

Hermione glanced at Draco, sitting behind his easel, with nothing more than a sheet draped casually around his waist. She watched his lips form a slight smirk, and remembered how those very same lips...

_pressed against hers._

_traveled down her neck._

lingered on the hollow at her collarbone.

left a trail of burning kisses down her body...

He was lazily twirling a charcoal pencil between his fingers, and as Hermione dazedly admired his hands, she thought of the way they...

_rested on her waist._

slid down her legs.

traced patterns on her back and body and face and lips...

How they touched her so perfectly.

More and more memories of _exactly _what happened last night were filling Hermione's unclouded brain, and she just couldn't stop them from coming, no matter how hard she tried.

_How he somehow managed to slip her out of the damp bathing suit._

How they tumbled into bed, locked in an embrace.

How the first initial contact of skin against skin shocked her so much.

... and how good it felt at the same time.

How he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a crushing embrace.

How his eyes had darkened to the shade of jet black...

... or was it just the moonlight pouring through the blinds at the window?

His skin against hers, slick and soft and smooth at the same time.

Their harsh breathing in the room, mixing with the whir of the electric fan.

The way Draco looked in the dark, his eyes half-closed, hair tousled, and his lips bruised and pink from their kissing.

How he knew what part of her to kiss to make her melt. What part of her to touch to make her gasp. How he knew every single secret a woman's body had to hide.

Her body.

Hermione clutched at the bedsheets, horrified at what she had just done. Draco watched as her tears began to stain the pillowcase she held on her lap.

"And once again, the Magnificent Draco Malfoy has brought another woman to tears with his excellent love-making... but you know, they usually cry during the act itself... not the morning after." he remarked, but there was no sarcasm, no insinuation... just his way of whistling in the dark.

Hermione kept on crying, eyes screwed shut against her anger at herself... at her lack of integrity... of _loyalty._

"Why are you crying?" She felt the bed give way, and she knew Draco was kneeling beside her. She felt his hand on her bare shoulder, and she yanked away, unable to bear his touch. 

_After what happened last night..._

"You weren't saving yourself for Saint Potter, were you?" 

She shook her head hysterically, hot tears slipping down her flushed cheeks.

"I figured that out." Draco sounded thoughtful. "Then... why cry? It was only one night."

Hermione was so shocked at his casual approach to the topic that she stopped crying. "But..." she choked. "It was one night... with... _you._"

And to her surprise,

shock,

indignation,

pain...

Draco laughed.

"Hermione! If you're still all high-and-mighty about your Paladin status..." A slight mocking tone entered his voice.

"Oh... of course you can't sleep around with us... _commoners, _right? How could I have forgotten?" he slapped his forehead in a gesture so utterly un-Draco.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You don't get it, do you?" she whispered dangerously. 

"I may not have been saving myself for Harry, but he was the only man I have ever slept with, and we were planning to get married anyway!" 

She had risen off the bed now, and was standing above Draco, clutching the bedsheet around her in a gesture both naïve and defiant. 

"Don't you know what that makes me now?!"

Draco looked contemplative. "A whore?"

Her eyes filled up with tears again. "Exactly."

Silence.

"Hermione..."

Silence.

"I never meant for it to be that way."

Silence.

"I lost control of myself back there."

Silence.

"When you kissed me. Just like that."

Hermione looked at him with puffy red eyes. Draco was sitting on the bed, avoiding her gaze. 

"I'm sorry."

"Oh... Draco."

She fell onto the bed, and wrapping her arms around him, buried her face in his neck. Draco closed his eyes and put his arms around her, knowing that he was the only source of comfort she could find, even though it was he who caused her anguish in the first place.

And Hermione's sobs and the hum of the fan were the only sounds in that room as a new day begun.


	14. You Don't Love Me Anymore

AN: I especially like the song that I used for the opening quote. Hilarious, I tell you. Go get the complete lyrics... and while you're at it, the MP3 as well. It's sort of like a sentimental love song that's horribly wrong. 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, I not own. 

Dedicated to:

Chapter 14: You Don't Love Me Anymore

_We've been together for so very long_

_But now things are changing, oh I wonder what's wrong?_

_Seems you don't want me around_

_The passion is gone and the flame's died down_

_I guess I lost a little bit of self-esteem_

_That time that you made it with the whole hockey team_

_You used to think I was nice_

_Now you tell all your friends that I'm the Antichrist_

_Oh, why did you disconnect the brakes in my car?_

_That kind of thing is hard to ignore_

_Got a funny feeling you don't love me anymore_

_- You Don't Love Me Anymore, Weird Al_

            Harry sat in the dark of the his bedroom, watching as the last few sparkles of Locating energy faded away from the envelope on his desk.

            Tentatively, he picked it up, and slit it open. 

            Out fell a three-page long letter and a small charcoal sketch done on parchment.

            Harry raised his eyebrow in surprise. He picked it up and turned it over.

            He held in his hands a beautifully done portrait of Hermione, her eyes bright and smiling, her hair in soft waves that fell past her shoulders. 

            Harry's eyes softened. _How I've missed her. He admired it for a while, noting the excellent use of the soft charcoal, the fine lines and the steady hand. __I wonder who did this..._

_            He turned the parchment over and frowned. _

            Written in neat script across the back of the paper was Draco's signature... and Harry could almost see Draco's satisfied smirk and hear his insinuating voice.

            _Once again, Potter... I have something you don't._

~*~

            "I like that." he said thoughtfully, as Hermione poured tea into two teacups. Hermione glanced at him. "What?"

            Draco drew nearer and laid a considerate finger on a teacup. "The teacups and the teakettle are mismatched." Hermione raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. "Those are _my teacups, and __your teakettle. Don't blame me..." _

            Draco held up a pacifying hand, and a teasing smile played on his lips. "I said I liked it. They look good together, even though they don't match." His eyes found hers, and they locked briefly, sweetly. "Even if they weren't made for each other."

            Hermione set down her teacup. "Like us."

            Draco moved closer. And closer. "Exactly." 

            _And closer... and closer... _

~*~

            Harry was silent. Ron was silent because Harry was silent. Parvati was silently checking her reflection in the silver teaspoon because she knew that Ron was silent because Harry was silent.

            Finally, someone spoke. 

            "Aw, she'll be back, Harry." Ron muttered gruffly. 

            Harry was silent.

            And someone spoke again.

            "Good God! I've overdosed on Eyelash Curler Potion again. I'll go fix myself a remedy before I blind myself." 

            And Parvati stood up from the table and walked into her room, unable to stand the silence any longer.

~*~

            _Dear Hermione,_

_            I don't know what you've been doing over there with that blonde prig of a Malfoy, but whatever it is, it's definitely not healthy. Healthy for Harry, that is. And if it involves nudity, and scented swimming pools... Hermione, that's not healthy for you either._

_            That's all I'm going to tell you for now. (And Ron sends his greetings.)_

            Here, the handwriting changed drastically.

            _Hermione, get back here now! I don't care if Malfoy gets ripped apart by bloodthirsty Death Eaters, as long as you come back so Harry can start breathing again..._

_            The writing trailed off the page, as if someone had yanked the writer's hand and quill away from the parchment. From this point on, it was Parvati's smooth, rounded writing._

            _I would have written the same thing, although in a more civilized way._

_            Harry's literally wasting away, dear. Thought you might want to know._

_            Love and kisses, _

_            Parvati_

_            (and Ron.)_

~*~

            The faint buzzing of a Locator Charm filled the sleepy afternoon air in Draco's bedroom. He stirred slightly, and sensing the magic, rolled out of bed. Naked except for a sheet around his waist, he padded down the empty hallway to Hermione's room, where the envelope was beginning to take shape on the desk.

            He picked it up and walked back to his room in bare feet. He sat at the edge of the bed, holding the letter.

            "Hermione."

            "Mm-hm?"

            A shape shifted under the blankets, a shape that was vaguely of Hermione.

            "You've got a letter."

            Hermione sat up, looking mildly interested, and very sleepy. "From?" 

            Draco glanced at the name. "Parvati? The Patil girl? The one with the twin in Ravenclaw? The one who got laid in sixth year?" Hermione blinked.

            "How did you know that?!" she asked incredulously, reaching for the letter. Draco smiled roguishly at her. "Now that you think of it... how _did I know that?" he raised a slender eyebrow at her._

            Hermione laughed. "You... you... _flirt!" She grabbed the letter away from him, and holding the sheets around herself, slit it open and began to read._

            Five minutes later, Draco picked up the letter from the floor as Hermione angrily flopped back into bed. He scanned it quickly, then looked back towards Hermione's head, which was barely visible under the lumpy pillow. 

            "Well... do you want me to reply?" 

            "Hmph."

            Draco smiled, shrugged, and picked up his quill.

            "Well, if you don't mind tea being a bit late..."

~*~

            Parvati excitedly picked up the letter, still warm with crackling magic. Behind her, Ron peered over her shoulder, with Harry sitting dejectedly on the bed.

            She slit it open, and frowning at the unfamiliar handwriting, read the one line that was neatly written on the finest parchment money could buy.

            _Parvati,_

_            Re vera, cara mea, mea nil refert. _

_            Draco Magnum Malfoy_

            Parvati sighed in disgust. "I wonder why she even lets that git handle her mail." Ron muttered. 

            Harry stared out the window. "I think she's letting him handle more of her than just her mail."

            Parvati wove a little Translating Spell over the Latin words.

            _Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn._

            Harry sighed. "Yes. He doesn't."


	15. Establishing Understanding

AN: *singing* _I'm drunk off your kiss, for another night in a row. This is becoming too routine for me... *breaks off and looks around at bewildered audience* Oops._

Disclaimer: Nah. Not Harry Potter, that belongs to J.K. Rowling. Not the song mentioned above, which was performed by New Found Glory, and has been running through my head lately. And well. Yeah. That's it. Move along.

Dedicated to: Myself. That's right. Me. *Draco-like smirk*

Chapter 15: Establishing Understanding

_"Wait. I don't get it."_

_"Yeah.__ The funny thing is... neither do I."_

_- real life quote_

            Moody looked up from his desk as Alais walked through the door. His eye darted over the nervous girl, taking in everything about her, from her neat hair to the scrolls of parchment tucked under her arm.

            "Alais."

            "Yes sir."

            "What is it?"

            "Sir, I'd just like to hand in the reports on the status of the Paladins and their charges."

            Moody looked interested, well, in one eye, that is. 

            "Ah, yes. I've been waiting for those."

            He held out his hand form the sheaf of parchments, and waited until Alais was out of the room before shuffling through them and quickly locating the one he was looking for.

            He pulled it out and held it to the light. 

            **_Paladin:_**_ Hermione Anne Granger_

_            **Charge:** Draco Thomason M. Malfoy_

_            **Current Physical Location:** Unplottable_

_            **Current Emotional Status:** Paladin - Stable * Charge - Stable_

_            **Contact with Outsiders: Active Location of letters daily to the following: Harry James Potter, Ronald Weasley, Parvati Patil...**_

            Moody quickly scanned the lines, skimming through the unnecessary information. Food eaten, daily activities, magic performed. He chuckled at the line which informed him that Draco installed a swimming pool, muttering something that sounded somewhat like _Ostentatious boy under his breath._

            And he came to the last line, and both eyes widened. "Well, well, well. Would you look at that? I never..."

***

            She smiled as he kissed her good morning. 

"You should have been up at six." she reprimanded him as she poured him coffee. "You were supposed to help me with the wards." 

Draco looked at her through sleepy gray eyes. "Sorry about that. What can I say?" he shrugged slowly. "You were rather... _excitable last night. You can't blame me for being exhausted. I'm surprised __you aren't collapsing right now."_

Hermione turned red, and Draco winked at her slyly as he sipped his coffee.

A few minutes later:

"God, woman! Don't you know how to make proper coffee?!" 

"Oh that's not coffee."

"What in bloody hell-"

"Ever wondered where all the extra mud you've tracked in the floor went?"

"When I get my hands on you..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll..."

"Well?"

"Steal your breath."

Hermione looked at him.

"Fine. Come here."

***

            "You know, if I never sent her that break-up letter, she would never have begun sleeping with Malfoy."

            Harry nursed a cup of tea, and Ron awkwardly thought of something to reply to him. 

            "Er, how do you know she's sleeping with Malfoy? I mean, she hasn't told you directly, has she?"

            Harry glared at Ron. "Look at that! Read them all!" he flung an arm towards his desk, where all of Hermione's letters lay in a pile. "It's nothing but Draco this, Draco that. Just the fact that she calls him _Draco is enough to make me..."_

            He broke off, staring down into the swirling green of his tea. 

            Ron caught his breath, and fumbled for something, _anything but that silence. "Well, she __is his Paladin... maybe she couldn't help becoming closer to Malfoy." It was the equivalent of a nonchalant shrug._

            Harry buried his head in his hands. 

***

            Later at dinner that night, Parvati seemed to be doing a pretty good job of cheering Harry up with lively tales of what they could do _when Hermione comes back. (They were avoiding the word __IF.)_

            "Then we could take her out to dinner in that pretty French place... doesn't she love French food, Harry?"

            Harry looked up. "Yeah, she does. She really liked _escargot."_

            "And French fries!" Ron piped up happily. 

            Parvati turned to Harry. "So, don't worry, Harry dear. Hermione will be back soon. I asked Alastor Moody to come over tonight and give us an update on her." Ron grinned at Harry around a mouthful of chicken, and Harry smiled back weakly.

            And just then, the doorbell rang.

***

            "So what do we do now?" Hermione asked him, as they lay in his bed, watching each other breathe.

            Draco looked thoughtful. "I was thinking that maybe we could cuddle a bit more, then maybe some kissing, then a swim to cool ourselves down... then some hot chocolate, because it's getting awfully goddamned cold nowadays..."

            Hermione laughed. "No, I was just wondering what our status is now. Do you think your safety level's been cleared now?"

            He shrugged. "I don't know." he said. "And frankly..." he reached out to her, and slipped his arms around her. "I don't care. I could live like this forever."

            His lips touched her temple, and she closed her eyes. 

            "Now, what about that hot chocolate?"

***

            Moody spread the parchment out on the table, and Harry, Ron and Parvati looked at it with interest. 

            "It's quite interesting, actually. It was only a few months, and considering their relationship before, well, it's a remarkable improvement..." Moody told them, sliding one scarred finger down the long paragraphs detailing the everyday activities of Draco and Hermione.

            Ron raised a red eyebrow. "Is there any shagging going on?"

            He was met with several glares. 

            "Er. Don't mind me."

            Moody turned back to the paper and pointed to the last sentence. "This is what interested me the most. And I'm sure you'll be very happy for your friend Hermione."

            They turned their eyes to that one betraying sentence, and in the shocked silence, one could almost hear Harry's heart breaking.

            **_Current Paladin-Charge Relationship: __In love.___**


	16. Maybe Hermione

AN: I am so enjoying this. Whee. 

Disclaimer: Same old, same old.

Chapter 16: Maybe Hermione.

_Rain falls angry on the tin roof_

_As we lie awake in my bed _

_You're__ my survival, you're my living proof _

_My love is alive not dead _

_Tell me that we belong together _

_Dress it up with the trappings of love _

_I'll__ be captivated, I'll hang from your lips _

_Instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above_

_- I'll Be, Edwin McCain_

            They lay side by side, his bare shoulder touching hers in a warm kiss. The sleet drummed against the roof in a relaxed rhythm, echoing the contented beating of their hearts. She turned, lay on her side, facing him. He smiled slowly, without turning to face her. Lifting her hand, she traced the profile of his handsome face, the high forehead, the aristocratic nose and the full lips.

            "Pretty boy." she whispered softly, laughingly. He looked incredulous. "How dare you..." When she laid a finger on his lips, he cooled down, admitting that, "No one's ever called me that before."

            She laughed then, he heard it clearly against the muffled pounding of the rain-mixed snow outside, and it was beautiful. "Well then, I'm the first." He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. "Does that make you feel special?" he whispered. She nodded, resting her head on the crook of her elbow.

            Draco slid a hand teasingly down her bare thigh. "That's good. I like making you feel special... because you are, Hermione." _Special.__ Hermione's lips twitched. "Say that again."_

            He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "You're special. Special. The most special woman in my entire life." he breathed. Hermione closed her eyes and kissed him.

            Outside, the snow began to fall, slowly. Sweetly.

***

            Harry closed the curtains, and the room darkened even more. The rain was falling steadily outside, and the day was bleak and grey, without a glimpse of sunshine all day through. Downstairs, he could hear Parvati singing playfully to Ron, asking the rain to go away and to come again another day.

            His heart jumped painfully. _Hermione used to sing that to me everytime it would rain. And her voice was so much sweeter. If only I could hear her now…_

***

            "Rain, rain, go away, come again another day..." Hermione hummed to herself as she threw the curtains open, letting in nothing but grey mists, cold air and watery light. Draco came down behind her, yawning, dressed in boxers and a bathrobe.

            He came up behind her, and wrapped one arm possessively around her waist, gently taking her hand in his other one. She smiled contentedly and leaned back into his embrace, taking comfort in his warm body. 

            "And I always thought that you'd feel so cold and smooth..." she told him laughingly, admiring the misty condensation tracing patterns on the window glass. "Cold and unfeeling... like some marble statue."

            He ran his hand through her tousled curls. "Really. So if I'm not cold, what am I?"

            She twisted around in his arms, faced him and smiled. "Warm. Oh so warm."

            Draco laid his lips against her neck, and Hermione could his smile against her skin, as he murmured "Warm. You made me that way." She slipped her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes. "Aren't I wonderful?" she whispered teasingly into his windswept blond hair. 

            His laugh bubbled up from inside him, and she could feel it against her. "Yes, you are."

            She held him close, and she felt his arms tighten around her waist. "Do you love me, Draco?" 

            Silence, and the pattering of the cold grey sleet outside. "Maybe, Hermione."

***

            Mad-Eye Moody looked up from his desk. "Potter." he acknowledged, thinking that this might be interesting. Harry nodded at him, and took a seat in front of Moody's paper-covered desk. 

            "I want to know everything I can about the Laws of the Paladin."

            Moody raised a thick eyebrow as he reached into his desk. "Straight to the point, aren't we? I assume this has something to do with... ah... Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy?"

            Harry glanced warily at the thick black tome Moody held out to him. "No, it has absolutely nothing to do with them."

            Moody laughed gruffly. "Yes, Potter. It has absolutely _nothing to do with them." Harry looked up at him, as if breaking out of a trance. His jade eyes narrowed, and he took the book from Moody without ceremony or grace._

            "It's not funny. How would _you feel if the only love of your life was gone forever? If she ran away from you? Straight into the arms of the one you hate the most in this cursed world?" Harry's pale palm thudded onto a pile of scrolls on Moody's desk, knocking them off the table._

"_And what if she never comes back?!"_

Silence. Moody's eyes were downcast, both the magical and the natural one. Harry's breathing was labored, and one could see the emotion glittering at the corner of his remarkable eyes. The book dangled from his hand, as his other hand clenched and unclenched on the desk. 

Harry straightened up. With one hand, he tucked the book into his jacket, and the other hand brushed lightly across his face, wiping away something, maybe tears, maybe sorrow, maybe Hermione. 

"Thank you." his voice was firm, yet weak. "I'll return the book as soon as conveniently possible." Without waiting for a reply, he strode out of the office, the door sliding close behind him. 

Moody raised his grizzled head, sighed, and picked up his quill. And he continued to write, well into the night.

***

            Parvati lifted the curtains, glanced at the desolate slush-filled iceland, and sighed. "Harry will be back soon." Ron sat in front of the fireplace, the firelight turning his hair burnished bronze. "Mmm." he murmured. "If only this horrid December weather would let up. Christmas is right around the corner, and the sleet's still pelting down."

            A cup of cocoa was Summoned neatly into Parvati's hand. "Yes, I agree. Is it too hard to ask for snow?" she sighed dramatically and took a sip of the bitter chocolate. She glanced over at the Christmas tree in the corner, decorated neatly with blue candles and silver ribbon. 

            "The weather would let up soon, I hope, in time for Christmas." she thought out loud, then suddenly, in a startling burst of energy, Ron sat up and flung his mug to the carpet.

            "Ron!"

            "I can't take it anymore! How can we sit here, all warm and toasty, discussing such inane things like _weather when my __best friend is pining away for the one and only love of his life?! It's just not right for us to be so happy when he's so obviously suffering! I can't stand the thought of that bastard Malfoy-"_

            The door swung open, letting in a cold blast of muddy snow, and a much-disheveled Harry. He stared at them, his eyes dull. Ron sat back down. 

            "And as I was saying, Parvati, I _do hope the sleet stops before Christmas, and will be replaced by proper snow, don't you think? Oh, hello there, Harry. Cocoa?"_

            Harry shook his head, and removed his jacket, the snow melting in the heat of the fire and dripping to the carpet. Parvati winced. _First, Ron's cocoa puddle, now those horrid ice puddles..._

            The dark-haired young man made his way up the stairs, pausing only to say, "Ron, your cocoa's spilled."

            Ron laughed shakily. "Thanks, Harry old chap. You be careful now, be good, be happy." he called up the stairs, where the sound of Harry's ascending footsteps echoed dismally back to him. 

            When even that sound had faded away under the hissing shush of the sleet outside, Ron turned back to Parvati, looking so tired, so hurt, so helpless that her heart ached for him and his best friend.

            "Oh Ron." She got up, kissed him lightly on his freckled cheek. "You can still help him. His heart is not beyond repair." 

            But as she began performing Cleansing Charms on the cocoa puddle on the carpet, she could only hope that her words were true.

***

            The clock on the wall ticked slowly past two in the morning. One candle flickered at the desk, beside a dark figure hunched over a dusty tome. Harry pushed his glasses up, and continued to read, showing no sign of sleepiness or disinterest in his work.

            _The Paladin Spell is an ancient, powerful enchantment, involving the binding of two souls together forever. _

            Harry stopped, his finger on that one word. _Forever._

            _One of these souls, the predominantly more powerful, more righteous one, will be named the Paladin, and entrusted to this Paladin is the soul of the Charge. From the beginning of the Spell to the end, the Paladin will be in every respect responsible for the welfare of the Charge._

_            Harry reread the sentence. __...to the end..._

            "What was the end?"

            He flipped forward, past the list of enchantments needed for the entire Spell, instructions on how to render a house and a radius around it Unplottable, the requirements of a Paladin...

            ..._The Deathe Of A Paladin._

_            He read on, eyes narrowed in concentration._

            _If, by the most unfortunate events, a Charge will die of an unnatural deathe, one that is inflicted by human hands, the Paladin is still held solely responsible, most especially if the Paladin did little or nothing to prevent such events from taking place._

_            However, if the Paladin should die in the process of defending his/her Charge, then the Paladin's death shall be honored above all others, and memoriam will be the responsibility of the Charge for the rest of eternity, just like the Charge was the Paladin's responsibility during life._

_            If a Charge shall die, even though the Paladin gave his/her all in the protection that s/he was required to keep, the Paladin shall still be honored, yet the burden of memoriam is still on the Paladin's shoulders._

            He stopped reading, laid his hand on the page to stop it from blowing closed. "It's as if the Paladin and the Charge are... married." he whispered into the dark, around a painful lump of misery in his throat.

            Suddenly, shining letters near the bottom of the page caught his eye, and he read on with interest.

            _However, if the Charge was murdered or put to deathe by one the Paladin trusted and was confidantes with before the Spell, the Paladin will suffer the greatest pain, and imminent deathe as well._

_            Harry shut the book with a thump._

            "Then killing Malfoy's out of the question then." he said dully. "I can't hurt Hermione."

            The cold winter wind found its way around the cracks of the windowsill, and smelling of Christmas and fair weather, it snuffed out the candle. 

            "If only they knew." his voice was soft in the dark. "I'm already suffering the greatest pain."


	17. Christmas Cocoa

AN: Merry Christmas! As an early Christmas gift, I decided to upload _two, yes, __two__ chapters! Bwahaha. :) Enjoy, my lovable ones!_

And as anyone I owe gummy bears to... they're right here. You come get 'em. *wink*

Disclaimer: Not mine! I am excessively cheerful today!

Dedicated to: Everyone who reviewed. You are the stuff of inspiration. *glomp!*

Chapter 17: Christmas Cocoa

_So__ I lay my head back down_

_And__ I lift my hands and pray_

_To be only yours, I pray_

_To be only yours, I know now_

_You're__ my only hope..._

_- Only Hope, Switchfoot_

            Harry opened his eyes, and there was no sun. It was simply a bright, shining light, and the wind was cold as it whispered to him from outside his window, knocking loudly with fingers of twigs and tree branches. 

            He reached out, almost involuntarily, then drew back again, remembered Hermione wasn't beside him anymore, and that she hadn't been for months now.

            Stumbling out of bed, he slipped his glasses on and looked out the window. Snow, bright and pristine, sweet and glittering, layered the streets outside in mounds of pure white. Children were already playing, and their sweet laughter drifted up to him on the wings of the cold wind.

            Harry rested his forehead against the frigid glass, closed his eyes and sighed.

            "I wish you were mine, Hermione." he prayed to the snowflakes drifting down, frozen tears from heaven. "I wish I was yours. I wish you loved me too."

            He could still feel her there, her hand in his, her lips against his, her voice, her laugh.

            Harry opened his eyes and wiped away the tears. And he went back to bed.

***

            "Snow! There's snow!" Hermione looked positively beautiful in the bright shining light reflected from the snow. At least that what Draco thought.

            He smiled sleepily at her. "Want to go outside and play?" Hermione laughed. "Absolutely!" Draco blinked. "Wait, I was-"

            She smiled disarmingly at him. "Oh, come on. Or no breakfast for you." Draco heaved a mock sigh and rolled out of bed as Hermione dashed around, pulling jackets and mittens out of the closet. "You'd better be nice to me." he said sadly as he pulled on the thick jacket over his dark pants. Hermione looked happier than she had been in weeks. "I will be, once you come on out."

            Fifteen minutes later, Draco stood uncomfortably in the middle of the snow-laden garden as Hermione walked briskly around, inspecting the wards. "They seem to have held up fine during the snowfall..." she mentioned, reinforcing them one by one. 

            Draco looked down, his eye caught by a smear of blood-red on against the virgin snow...

            Hermione walked back to him, smiling. "That's done. We can go play now... oh!"

            She stared at the rose in Draco's hand. "Oh..." she breathed, touching it carefully. "They're still alive." Draco held it carefully, considerate and gentle. "Yes." he said thoughtfully. "They are."

            He smiled then, beautifully, and he held it out to her. "Here you go, Hermione. Merry Christmas." She looked at him quizzically. "What?" Draco took her hand, folded it around the rose's thornless stem. "I said, Merry Christmas."

            Realization broke over her face like the dawn. "Merry Christmas to you too!" she squealed happily, throwing her arms around his neck in a fit of joy. Draco smiled, patted her on the head gently. She pulled away, clutching the rose, eyes bright.

            Draco took it from her and gently set it on the windowsill. "Let's put that there for the moment, why don't we?" Then he turned back to her. "After all, I still want to play." 

            Hermione caught his eyes in hers, then narrowed them playfully.

            "Aha. So is this the part where I trip over backwards and you catch me right before I fall?" she whispered teasingly, slowly shuffling backwards into the soft snow. Draco's eyes twinkled.

            "No. It's the part where I push you over, then follow you down."

            And with one swift move, he did exactly that.

            And their laughter was carried up by the frigid breeze, to the bare, skeletal treetops and beyond.

***

            Parvati knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until finally, with a heavy sigh, she pushed it open.

            "Harry, there's Christmas tea, come on down."

            She was met by a steely silence from the man who bent over the desk, scribbling away as if his life depended on it. And as Parvati stared forlornly at him, she knew that it probably did. 

            "Harry, please." she implored. "It's Christmas, for heaven's sake. Are you going to waste it cooped up in your little garret scribbling away at parchment?" 

            Harry's voice was bitter. "As long as Hermione receives my Christmas wishes, I do not consider my efforts wasted. As long as she knows I still care, I do not mind spending all Christmas up here, alone. And even if she does not reply, as long as I know it got to her safely, my Christmas will be considered well-spent."

            Outside, the snow was falling slowly but sweetly. Parvati felt her heart ache. She walked over to him, laid her hands on his tense, hunched shoulders. "It's Christmas." she repeated slowly. "I prepared a tea, I worked hard on it to make it presentable and edible, and Ron's downstairs, waiting for you." 

            She took a breath, went on. "We're having dinner later, and we invited everyone. Molly, Ginny, Charles, Bill, and Percy... and we even invited Sirius, and he said he'd try his best to make it." She felt Harry flinch at the mention of his godfather. 

            "You won't make us incomplete, will you, Harry? Just because you're incomplete yourself?" Parvati felt something rising up in her, and her grip unconsciously tightened on Harry's shoulders. Her eyes swept over his cluttered desk, the unwritten letters, the pile of drafts and crumpled parchments, the ink-spotted quills, the book of Paladins... the sketch of Hermione that Draco had made.

            "Are you going to be like this forever? Are you going to spend the rest of your life clinging to someone who's fading away faster than candle smoke?" Parvati sighed. "Harry, you have to learn to let go."

            "But I love her." his voice was small, hurt and full of tears.

            "We love her too, Harry, but you don't see us pining away for her, do you? Of course we're worried," she added hastily. "we're all worried about her, and we've all got our own fair share of... er... regret about Malfoy... but Harry, she's a million miles away... and we're here, and this is now, and this is Christmas."

            Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We miss you too, Harry. Just like, you miss her. But," she gestured to the scrolls of parchment and the burnt-down candles. "But it's more painful for us missing you, because you're right here, yet you seem an eternity away."

            "But Hermione?"

            "Hermione really _is an eternity away, Harry, and you aren't, which makes it so much worse for us. We miss you, Harry, and though Hermione can't come back... Ron and I are hoping that you still can."_

            She laid a hand on his tousled black head. "We're hoping you still will."

            Harry was silent. Parvati squeezed his shoulders in a sisterly fashion and walked to the door. Before she shut it behind her, she threw in her final word. "Ron's downstairs, and even though he won't admit it, I'll say it for him. We love you, and we love Hermione too... but we know how to let go, and we know how to accept things as they are... Harry, you should learn how to. Ron misses you, so do I, and we understand that you miss Hermione... but Harry, it's been a year since she left."

            "You have to learn to heal yourself. And maybe, just maybe, Christmas with us, the people who are still here and loving you, will help somehow."

            Parvati tucked a loose curl behind her ear, thinking of Ron, who was sitting downstairs, forlornly nursing a cup of lukewarm tea. "Is Hermione your only hope, Harry? Then in that case... it's too late to save you now, is it? She's saving another, and it's up to you to save yourself. We're willing to help, but you won't let us."

            She stopped her hand on the doorknob. She looked one last time at Harry, who was staring down at his unfinished letter, his hands and knuckles as white as the snow outside.

            "I've said my piece. We'll be waiting. In the meanwhile, Merry Christmas, Harry."

            A soft click as the door closed behind her, and the footsteps faded away.

            Harry lifted his head and looked out the window in front of him. With a shaking hand, he swung it open, letting in the freezing cold air, and the sweet laughter of children playing in the snow below. Silence.

            He could remember those days at Hogwarts, when the three of them, the inseparable trio, would tumble through the snow with nothing troublesome in their minds. Nothing troublesome, but for the fact that Malfoy would always be there with his sneer and ready insults.

            Harry's heart ached. _Malfoy__, once again, you've defeated me. But I'm not giving in this time. _

            He closed the window, and began arranging the scrolls on his desk. He gave the letter a glance and set it aside, pushing back his chair and making his way to this closet.

            _I'll__ finish it later. Meanwhile, I have Christmas to attend._

***

            They tumbled in the door, laughing, their arms around each other. Draco smiled down at her, a smile like a sunrise. Hermione pushed the hair back from his smooth forehead, her expression softening. And playfully, he stuck out his tongue and nipped a snowflake off her cheek.

They stood in the hallway, snow and wind blowing in through the open door and swirling around them as they locked themselves in a kiss and sealed off the world around them.

            Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drown in the warmth, the utter warmth and presence that was Draco. His hands on her waist, the searing warmth of his mouth, though they had been outside for more than an hour, her arms locked around his neck and the brief glimpse of snow-white skin and silvery eyelashes before she closed her eyes and kissed him.

            Finally they broke apart, laughing softly. He pulled her to him, as he closed the door behind him. "Warm enough to melt the snow." he winked at her. She laughingly pushed him away and told him, in a mock-stern voice not to drip on the carpet. Draco looked meekly at her.

            "Excuse me, there's nothing here but bare wood flooring and worm-eaten knotholes. What carpet?"

            Hermione tossed him her jacket. "Pretend there's one." and she headed to the living room to start a fire.

            Fifteen minutes later found them curled up before a roaring fire, with Hermione cradling a cup of cocoa in her hands as she leaned comfortably against and Draco idly playing with the curls of her hair. She closed her eyes as his hand slid down her cheek in an uncharacteristically warm gesture. "Merry Christmas, love." she murmured. 

            Draco looked up into the fire, its ruby red flames reflecting in his eyes of steel grey. Outside, the snow was drifting down like so many white feathers, as if the angels up above were having a pillow fight. 

            He smiled, and Hermione looked at him. He leaned forward, and met her lips in a warm kiss.

            "Merry Christmas to you, too."


	18. Convinced

AN: My deepest apologies to all those faithfully following this storyline so far. It's been _months since I uploaded a chapter, and I've been kicking myself since then. My apologies, sweet ones. _

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Written for: _Pichouette, who has been bugging me to finish Fata and Better Man and such. She has been a constant source of inspiration and humor and coolness._

Chapter 18: Convinced

                "He is fading away." 

                "No, he is still strong."

                "Not for very long."

                "You speak lies, Parvati."

                "I speak the truth, but it is truth you don't want to believe in."

                Parvati laid a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You're the one who's lying to yourself. Harry is wasting away. He hasn't come down from his room in months. He returns his food to me almost untouched. He stays up there, morning to night, writing letters that he will never send."

                Ron's fiery head was bowed, and he didn't meet her gaze. "He will come down. Soon." His voice was muffled, and Parvati knew that even he didn't believe in himself anymore.

                "He will die, Ron, if you don't do something. You're the only one he listens to, now that Hermione is gone." 

                She fingered the stack of letters by the fireplace, letters that they sent off by Location Charms, only to be sent back unopened. 

                "Bring Harry back, Ron. You aren't the same without him."

                Silence filled the small living room, pressing down on their ears. Ron imagined that if he listened very hard, he could hear a quill scribbling from the locked room above him, and teardrops falling onto damp parchment.

                The very sound broke his heart.

                He stood up abruptly, and Parvati started.

                "Where are you going?" she asked, as Ron strode off in the direction of Harry's door. "What are you going to do?!"

                Ron lifted his wand and pointed it at the door that hid his best friend. "Something I should have done months ago."

***

                "It's depressingly quiet around here." Hermione murmured, drawing the curtains closed, shutting out the afternoon rain. Behind her, Draco lazed elegantly on the living room couch. "Isn't it?" he replied, lighting candles with indolent flicks of his wand. Hermione sighed softly.

                "It would be good to have some changes around here, don't you think?"

                Draco perked up. "Why not? Come on, darling, let's invite some Death Eaters over for tea!" 

                In spite of the damp weather, Hermione laughed. "You know that's impossible, Draco. After all," she moved to sit down beside him. "we hardly have enough teacups." 

                She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes tiredly. Draco watched the shadows flicker on her face, silently congratulating himself on the quality of the candlelight. Reaching over, he gently traced her slight jawline with his finger. She murmured something incomprehensible and her eyelashes fluttered slightly. 

                "Hermione," Draco whispered, more to himself than to his sleeping love. "what would I ever do without you?"

***

                "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" 

                Harry leaped back from the wreckage Ron had made of his bedroom door. He glared spitefully at Ron, who was blinking at the planks and pieces of wood at his feet. "Get out of my room."

                Ron brushed the dust from his hair and glared back at Harry with equal venom. "No, I'm not leaving this room unless you leave with me." 

                Harry sniffed. Ron raised his wand and pointed it right between his best friend's eyes.

                The green eyes registered shock, surprise, then a heartbreaking sadness.

                "What do you want from me, Ron?"

                Ron gestured at the broken door behind him. "I want you to come with me. I'm giving you your very late Christmas present."

***

                She awoke to a darkened room, with the wavering flickers of the candles as her only source of light. The room was empty, save for a note on the table, written in Draco's beautifully archaic handwriting. 

                _Gone swimming.___

Hermione flopped back onto the pillows, which she had enchanted to be feather-soft long ago. A few minutes passed. Half an hour. Half and a quarter.

                Until she finally got up again and wandered out into the freezing cold February to reinforce the wards.

                And maybe drop by Draco at the pool.

***

                Ron knocked down Moody's door in almost the same way he knocked down Harry's.

                Only in a more civilized manner.

                "Come in!" Moody roared at the polite knock at his door. It swung open and Ron Weasley strode in, looking more determined than the ex-Auror had ever seen him. Behind him lagged Harry Potter, tired and thin and bedraggled from being hauled two miles through a steady drizzle.

                "And what may I do for you?" Moody asked, raising one bushy eyebrow at his visitors. His magical eye rolled over and fixed itself on Harry, who slouched in a chair and refused to meet anyone's gaze.

                "I assume this has something—no, _everything—_to do with Ms. Granger and her Paladin duties?" Moody's normal eye went to Ron, but the magical one was fixated at Harry.

                Ron nodded. "I want to bend the rules, Moody." he said quietly.

                To his surprise, Moody laughed. "You've been bending rules since your first year in Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley, along with Potter here. I'll be glad to bend them a little for you… unless..."

                The Paladin trainer went serious. "What rules do you need bending?"

                Ron held up the Paladin handbook. "These ones." 

                Harry's eyes widened behind his rain-spotted glasses.

***

                "I'm afraid you've caught me at a rather… _improper _time, Hermione darling." 

                Hermione raised an amused eyebrow. "You've been skinny-dipping, Draco? _Alone?" _

                Draco smiled angelically. "Well, you were busy with your oh-so-important Paladin duties…" 

                Hermione placed a hand on her hip. "You listen to me. These 'oh-so-important Paladin duties' happen to be keeping you _alive… _I hope you remember that when you get old and gray."

                Draco laughed. "I will never get old and gray." He followed this up with a risqué wink in her direction. 

                His Paladin sighed defeatedly. "Yes. I guess that's true." Hermione's lips curled in a sly smile. Her voice took on a mock-important tone. "So, my Charge… it's a Paladin's oh-so-important duty to know what you've got on under that towel."

                Draco raised his hands and shrugged, the towel falling to the marble floor. 

                "Nothing much, really."

***

                "This is impossible." 

                "Yeah, well, Harry here's known for doing the impossible."

                "But this is against Ministry regulations!"

                "And that too."

                Moody slammed the Paladin handbook shut. "As much as I want to help Potter with his… _predicament... _I cannot bend the rules that far. I cannot set up a permanent residence license on an Unplottable location. Those are only handed out to Paladins and their Charges."

                Ron was silent. Everything he had worked for, and everything he had hoped for seemed to be crumbling into dust.

                Behind him, Harry was listlessly picking at his gloves.

                "Paladins and their Charges…" Ron repeated in a slow whisper. 

                Something seemed to ignite within the redhead, and he suddenly sat up in his chair. 

                "How long does a Paladin's training take?" 

                Moody looked at him bemusedly. "Months, even years. Why are you asking me this?" Ron ignored that. "How long does a residence license take to create? On an Unplottable location?"

                "Maybe a few days. Or instantly if the need is urgent. But it will take months to render a location Unplottable… especially if we have to find one first."

                Ron stood up and thumped his hands on Moody's desk. "But _what if we already have an Unplottable location, and all we need are the two licenses to live on it?"_

                Moody felt the urgency in the young man's voice, placed there by desperation and genuine concern. 

                "Less than an hour."

                Ron's face split into a radiant smile. "Excellent. Moody, I would like you to draw up a Paladin license and a Charge license. Please give them to me within today. And please assist in the Relocation to the Unplottable location that I will name for you—"

                Moody frowned, and held up a large hand, stopping Ron's stream of orders.

                "Wait. Who is this Charge you have in mind, Mr. Weasley?"

                Ron looked mischievous. "Mr. Harry James Potter himself, of course! This boy's been hounded by bloodthirsty Death Eaters since the day he was born! Why, I do believe there hasn't been a day since—"

                "I understand." Moody sounded annoyed. "And who, may I ask, is the Paladin you have in mind for Mr. Potter?"

                Ron's grin grew wider.

                "Me."

                "Preposterous." Moody looked almost disgusted. "You don't know jack scratch about Paladin duties."

                "I know that they are supposed to be bound for life to their Charges. And tell me if I'm wrong, Alastor, but haven't I been bound to Harry since the day we met?"

                Something burned in Ron's eyes, a fire that Moody could not bring himself to extinguish.

                "I know about the dangers and the difficulties of being a Paladin, and I know that if _any harm _will come to Harry, I will suffer fatal consequences. But I don't need a magical contract to ensure that, Moody, because even without your magical testaments and covenants, I will most certainly die if any harm came to my best friend."

                Moody was silent. _… that a man is willing to lay down his life for his friend…_

A sigh. 

                "All right." Moody shuffled the parchment scrolls on his desk. "I will have the licenses drawn out and sent to you as soon as possible. Expect them within today."

                Ron smiled again. 

                "But wait. What Unplottable location are you suggesting we send you and Mr. Potter to?"

                Ron leaned in conspiratorially. "You see, it's this little cottage that we call _The Hellhole..._"


End file.
